


The Day Pete Wentz Fucked up the World

by vamplover82



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Timeline, Anal Sex, Animal Transformation, Apocalypse, Blow Job, Challenge: Bandom Big Bang, Crack, Crossover, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Genderswap, Hand Job, Medieval, Mpreg, Multi, Porn, Prostitution, Public Sex, Superpowers, Temporary Character Death, Tentacles, Threesome, Time Travel, Transformation, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-20
Updated: 2009-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamplover82/pseuds/vamplover82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding and accidentally using a time machine in his parents' attic, Pete's world changes forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and con crit. are much appreciated. Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bandombigbang/profile)[**bandombigbang**](http://community.livejournal.com/banombigbang/).

Pete had been poking around in his parents' attic one day when he found something kinda weird. It was a relatively small box that had a keypad, making it look almost like a calculator. Except that above the numbers, there was a switch set to Present, with Past to the left and Future to the right. There was also a button marked Set and another labeled Start, which was sunken into the device. The entire thing fit comfortably into his hand.

There was a small booklet that went with it, which had, hand-written on the front, 'Time Machine Instructions'. Pete laughed at that; one of his parents must have had an active imagination when they were younger. He opened the booklet, figuring it would be good for a laugh, at least.

_Operating Instructions  
This machine requires one specially made zinc-carbon battery to operate._

That alone would have made Pete skeptical if it weren't for the fact that time machines really weren't all that plausible anyway. It'd have to be one hell of a battery. He read on.

_Keypad: The numbers on the keypad are used to type in the desired year._

Well, duh. How dumbed down were these instructions, anyway? Time machines for dummies. Pete laughed.

_To set your present time: make sure the top switch is set to Present. Type in the appropriate year on the keypad (assuming you are counting from year 0 according to the Gregorian calendar) and press the Set button. Your present time is set and can only be reset by hitting the Reset button._

Pete looked for the reset button and found it on the bottom; it looked just like computer reset buttons. For kicks, Pete typed 2009 into the keypad and pressed set.

_To travel to the past: set the switch to the Past setting. Type the year you wish to travel to into the keypad. Press the Start button._

Future travel was the same, only with the switch set to Future.

_To return to the present: set switch to Present and press the Start button._

Sounded simple enough. Pete checked the battery compartment and saw a strangely-shaped battery in the machine already, which was good because he'd never seen anything like it and didn't think he'd have been able to find one. He closed the compartment and took the device and booklet downstairs. Pete wasn't exactly taking it seriously, but it wouldn't hurt to just try it out, right?

He stuffed the booklet in his pocket and took a minute to decide between the past and the future. Ultimately, he figured the past was a better bet; at least he knew what he'd be in for. He set the device to take him to 1995 and sat on his bed, just staring at it for a minute before pushing the Start button. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

*****

Pete felt sort of dizzy after pushing the button, so he slumped over on the bed, closing his eyes and waiting for it to pass. When it did, he sat up and looked around. His room looked the same as it always had, and he laughed at his own foolishness in believing that the 'time machine' might actually work.

All of this time travel stuff, though, got him thinking about his life before Fall Out Boy. How he sometimes wished he'd finished college, just to be able to say that he had. And hey, he kinda thought that writing that shit down might be a good idea; maybe he could use some of it later on. So, he sat down at his desk, grabbed a sheet of paper, and began writing.

_I always kind of wished I'd finished college, although I don't for a second regret what I have made of my life. Just, how much more could I have done with a college degree? Would my life be any different? I wish I knew. Pete, sometimes you are such a dumbass._

He knew it sounded stupid. Who, with his life, would bother questioning what might have been? Not like he could help it, though. Pete left the sheet of paper lying on the desk and went outside, intending to take a walk around the block and hopefully clear his head. He only got a little way before he saw his old friend, Harry.

Only, Harry looked exactly like Pete remembered him from high school. And all of a sudden, Pete was hit with the knowledge (the kind that could only come from gut instinct) that the stupid time machine had worked. He was actually in 1995.

He ran back home as quickly as possible, trying to remember where he left the time machine. He was sure it was in his room, but he couldn't seem to find it. And oh God, he heard a key in the front door, which could only mean that his mom was home and would freak the fuck out if she saw him.

Pete remembered that he'd left it on the bed, and he fumbled in the covers for it. He managed to find it, set it to take him back to the present, and push the Start button just as his mom walked into the room.  
*****

He got that dizzy feeling again and fell into a chair as Patrick walked into the room. Pete looked up as Patrick came over to him with a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah man, I'm fine," Pete said, shaking off the residual dizziness.

That's when he took in what Patrick was wearing. All-black suit, black tie, black fedora, with a pair of rather large sunglasses hanging out of his pocket.

"You got a date or something?"

Pete knew that couldn't be right, but he also couldn't think of any reason why Patrick would be wearing a suit when he hated them so much.

Patrick definitely looked confused at that.

"Uh, no. You know we just got home from work. I haven't had time to change yet."

"Work?" Pete asked, looking down at his own clothing and seeing that he was wearing the same thing he had been previously. No help there.

"Yeah. Where we go to push papers for the CIA from 9 to 5. And how did you get changed so quickly, anyway?"

Pete opened his mouth and realized that he had no idea what to say.

"You sure you're okay?" Patrick was sounding really concerned, but Pete couldn't really do anything about that; he needed more information.

"Not really. What about Fall Out Boy?"

Patrick punched Pete in the shoulder. "You know we're not supposed to talk about that," he hissed.

"What? Why not?"

Patrick pulled Pete into the closet in the bathroom, which was barely big enough to hold both of them. "Because it's not exactly prudent to talk about being spies for the FBI when our place is probably bugged by the CIA."

Pete thought for a minute. "What does Fall Out Boy have to do with that? And why would the FBI spy on the CIA anyway?"

"Goddamn it, Pete. It's the code name for the operation, and we only use it when necessary. And you know we're basically keeping track of what's going on for them since we see all the files."

Pete just slumped back against the wall, trying to take that in. "So we're secret agents for the FBI, not in a band?"

"Uh, yeah. Pete, our band was only a band for like, a year until you graduated and went off to train for the FBI."

And that was almost a physical blow, despite his interest in this spy thing. "What about Joe and Andy?"

"Joe's still at University of Illinois, and I don't think I know anyone named Andy."

Oh fuck, how could this shit happen? Pete figured it had to have been because of the time travel, but what the hell could he have done to make this…? Shit, of course. That fucking letter he wrote about staying in college. How could he have been so stupid?

"Pete? Pete!"

It sounded like Patrick had been trying to get his attention for awhile. "Yeah?"

"Are we done with the conversation now? Cause it's getting kind of uncomfortable in here."

"Sure, sure."

"Good," Patrick said, opening the door and heading to his room to change.

Pete headed to his room as well, only then noticing that they were in a two-bedroom apartment rather than his parents' house. Which he supposed made sense as the CIA wasn't in Illinois.

He and Patrick hung around the apartment that night, and Pete tried his best not to seem too weird about things. He found, however, that he couldn't sleep since all his thoughts were on what he should do. He had no idea why he still remembered the way things were before, but since he did, he was sure he couldn't just let it stay like this. Sure, he had Patrick, but God only knew whether he talked to Andy and Joe. Not to mention that he couldn't imagine life without Fall Out Boy.

By the time morning came, Pete had probably only gotten an hour or two of sleep. Patrick seemed surprised to see him up early, getting ready to go to a job he didn't know how to do. They set out, with Patrick driving, about an hour before they were due in. Pete managed to sleep for the whole commute, while they slowly made their way through traffic.

When they finally got in, they went to their desks and spent what was one of the worst days Pete had ever had, filing papers. If something could go wrong, it did. He couldn't find an important file that his boss needed; he managed to accidentally delete three hours worth of work from his computer; he had to work through lunch to get make it up; he got reprimanded for arguing with one of his co-workers (who was a total douchebag).

On the plus side, Pete thought of an idea that might get him out of this nightmare. Maybe, just maybe, if he went further back in time and changed something, he could he could get things back on track. He knew it wasn't the best plan ever, but damned if he could think of a better one.

As soon as they were done with work, Pete was incredibly relieved, ready to try the time travel thing again. Only, instead of going home, Patrick drove them to an old warehouse where they met their FBI contact. Even that proved to be a disappointment. No one hid in the shadows or took shots at them; they just handed over a file and left.

Neither he nor Patrick said much on the way home, and Pete was glad when they finally got there. He immediately went and got the time machine, and on a whim, grabbed all the cash he could find in his room. Never hurt to have cash on hand when you didn't know where, exactly, you were going. He set the time machine to take him to 1983 and pressed Start.

*****

Pete felt dizzy again, and when he regained his balance, he was in a place he recognized immediately: New York City. It was pretty fucking cold, but at least he was still wearing the awful black suit. He started walking, hoping for a coffee shop to get out of the cold, when he turned a corner and found one. It was a relief to get inside, and he went up to order, suddenly finding himself standing next to Donald Trump, who was obviously waiting for his coffee.

"Gotta love the corporate machine, huh?" Pete remarked with quiet irony as Donald Trump looked at him strangely. "Wave of the future."

Donald Trump was out the door quickly, and Pete was not too much longer, not having to wait long for his coffee. He was kind of amused at having said something like that to Donald Trump, even though he knew he had probably sounded really stupid.

It was too cold out for Pete to take the time to figure out what he should do to try to change things, so he just set the time machine for the present and hit Start. He could try going to a different time where it hopefully wouldn't be so cold.

*****

Pete expected things to be the same as they had been, but it was clear right away that they weren't. He was back on the streets of Chicago, but well, he was on the streets of Chicago.

He was standing next to a really beat up old car, and Joe was peering out the window at him. "Get in, fuckface!"

Pete opened the passenger door and got in. Joe was busy arranging blankets and a few ratty articles of clothing into a sort of nest in the back seat. "Well, get back here already. We've only got about six hours until work, and I want as much sleep as possible."

Pete climbed in the back, and Joe pulled him down and covered them in clothing. Within ten minutes, Pete discovered why they were huddling together; it was obviously the middle of winter, and one of the car's windows had a small hole in it. Another ten minutes later, he went to sleep just to get away from the cold.

Far too soon, Joe was shaking him awake and handing him a ragged coat. In the harsh light of day, Joe looked terrible. He was thin, pale, and covered in a layer of grime. They got out of the car, and Joe carefully locked the door. Pete stumbled after him as he headed down the street.

They only walked a few blocks, but Pete could see that this wasn't the Chicago he knew. There was a superficial resemblance, but that was all. There were no shops that didn't have busted windows, and the only people around looked just like Joe did.

The only things that did seem to be running were the factories, and boy were there a lot. Smoke stacks were everywhere, and the air was practically visible. Joe walked into one of the factories and pulled Pete with him to an assembly line. And even though Pete didn't know what he was doing, he picked it up within minutes. Basically all he was doing was fitting a couple of pieces of metal together.

He had no idea how long they went at it, but finally it was time for lunch. Of course, when he saw what there was to eat, he wasn't nearly so happy. The only description he could think of was 'gruel', and God, he didn't know that shit was actually real.

"Joe, what the fuck are we doing here, working these sit jobs?" Pete asked the first chance he got.

"Shit jobs?" Joe sounded genuinely surprised. "These are the only jobs there are. You take it or starve."

Pete was a little bit beyond shocked at that. All he could think was that it was pretty much exactly like a discussion he and Andy had had once about wage slavery. Only this was like…God, this kind of thing just didn't happen in America.

They went back to work for long hours after lunch, and it was dark by the time they were sent out the door with a chunk of bread apiece. Pete couldn't set the time machine fast enough. He decided on 1975 and pushed Start without a second thought.

*****

He was still in Chicago, though thankfully one that looked a lot more like he remembered. As a matter of fact, he was actually down the road from the place he went to high school. For lack of any other ideas, Pete made his way to the school, which was obviously just letting out for the day.

He watched the kids hurrying out, talking and laughing with their friends as they got into their cars and drove off. God, but that made him nostalgic. All those times he and his friends would hang out in the parking lot before soccer practice, or the times he'd spend making out in an empty hallway with various girlfriends.

When the stream of students leaving thinned out, Pete made his way in the front door. He wandered around, past his old classrooms, remembering all the good times, bad times, times spent sleeping through class. He only realized he'd stopped walking when someone said something to him.

"Can I help you?"

"No, not really. I was just…looking around."

Pete turned, surprised to see one of his favorite teachers standing there. Mr. Brown, his history teacher, had always managed to make class interesting.

"Hi," Pete said, extending his hand, "I'm Pete. I went to school here awhile back."

"Hello, Pete. I'm Charles Brown, U.S. history teacher."

"Nice to meet you. You know, I always liked U.S. history. Actually, I always really liked going here. There were some days I wished I never had to leave." Okay, so there hadn't exactly been a _lot_ of those, but there had been some.

"Well, I'm glad that you had such a good experience. You must excuse me, though; I'm late for a meeting."

Mr. Brown hurried past, and Pete called out a goodbye. After finding his old locker (he'd somehow managed to have the same one all four years), he had enough of reminiscing. He set the time machine to take him back to the present and pressed Start.

*****

When Pete got back, he was standing in the middle of an empty street. He knew he must be in Chicago, but only because he was still standing in front of New Trier High School. The thing was that the building stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions on one side of the street. On the other side was an enormous parking lot filled with cars that looked like they hadn't been driven in years.

Pete really didn't feel up to walking down the street and trying to find the end of the building, so he walked in the front door and immediately ran into Andy.

"Pete, what the fuck? You're gonna be so busted for going outside without permission. Come on, or we're gonna be late for class."

Pete let himself be dragged along to a classroom as large as any he'd ever seen in college. They took seats in the middle of the room just as the bell rang. Instead of the teacher that Pete expected, a large screen dropped down. Abruptly, a video of a white-haired old man began playing. It was a lecture on the biology of marine mammals. Pete zoned out for awhile, not very interested in the subject matter, and he was glad when the bell finally rang.

He spent the rest of the morning going to classes with Andy, spending several boring hours listening to video lectures on trigonometry, English, and history. Finally, though, it was lunchtime, and they entered a cafeteria that was almost cavern-like. People of all ages milled about, getting food, finding tables, shouting at friends.

"Andy, what are all these people doing here?"

"Eating."

God, Pete was already sick of having confused looks directed at him. "Yeah, but like, a lot of these people are too old for high school. Hell, _we're_ too old for high school."

"No such thing. They're just not on their first time through. And you know we're on our fourth time. Gets easier every time." Andy smiled as he got in the lunch line.

Pete didn't quite know what to make of that. Why the hell would anyone go through high school more than once? He was too busy considering the high school thing to pay much attention to what was going on. Before he knew it, he was sitting in front of an unappetizing tray full of food, and Hayley Williams was throwing herself in his lap and planting a sloppy kiss on him.

"Um…" Pete thought he managed not to look too freaked out.

"Hi, Pete!"

She looked way too pleased to see him, and God, he'd always liked Hayley, but this was just…no.

"Hey," he replied, trying to unobtrusively push her onto her own chair. She went willingly enough but refused to let go of his hand throughout lunch.

Throughout the rest of the day, Pete saw so many people he knew shouldn't be there that it bordered on ridiculous. Scratch that, it was completely ridiculous. Kind of like someone took practically everyone he ever knew and threw them all in the same place at the same time. Gerard and Mikey Way, Ryan Ross, nearly everyone from the bands on their label. And still, it managed to get weirder.

He saw his parents and next door neighbor (who was 80 years old), which was just surreal. And of course, the fact that there didn't seem to be any teachers, just video-taped lectures was downright strange. With all those people, you'd think they could have had actual teachers.

To top it all off, Pete was issued a detention (by his locker, no less) after his last class for being outside that morning. Unfortunately, it took him twenty minutes to find the detention room on his own, so he had to stay late to make up the time. Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't to be cleaning restrooms for two hours. When he got done, he left the cleaning stuff in the nearest supply closet and ran into Andy again in the hallway.

"Dude, just in time for dinner." Andy slung an arm around his shoulder and started steering him away.

"Dinner?" Pete asked, but any answer was unnecessary when they got to the cafeteria and everyone was there once again, lining up for food.

Pete ate pretty much in silence, wanting to take the opportunity to listen to everyone else. He didn't really get any useful information other than that Hayley wanted him to meet her in the supply closet after dinner. Somehow, he didn't think it was for homework help.

Instead of going to the supply closet, Pete headed to the restroom and went into the nearest stall. He fiddled with the time machine while trying to decide on a year. Sure, he'd liked high school well enough at the time, but Pete was sure he couldn't handle going for the rest of his life. Eventually, he set the time machine to take him to 1968 and pressed Start.

*****

Pete was pretty sure he was once again in New York City, although this time he was definitely in one of the gay neighborhoods. The street didn't really look any different than any other street, other than the fact that there was an overabundance of same-sex couples walking together. And even that wouldn't have been conclusive if he hadn't seen the sign for the Stonewall Inn across the street.

Of course, it was completely cemented when a guy stopped next to him but didn't actually look at him. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"Yeah, I'm from Chicago."

"Ah, you looking for a good place to go? Cause Stonewall's one of the best. And I guarantee I'll be there tonight."

Pete was pretty sure that was a come-on. "Well, I'm not actually gay, you know." Pete didn't like the look of fear that crossed the guy's face at that. "Look, it's alright. Sometimes I wish I were gay." He nearly laughed at the look on the other man's face; there was a lot of shock and a little confusion there. "Would just be interesting to have a different perspective."

"You are one strange man," the guy said to Pete, giving a little wave and walking off down the street.

Pete reached into his pocket and pulled out the time machine, setting it to take him to the present.

*****

Pete popped in in his house, which he figured was a good thing since he was tired as hell. He went to his room and fell asleep pretty much immediately. In the morning, he felt far more rested and almost chalked everything up to a really weird dream. The only thing was that he had a strange feeling he couldn't seem to shake or figure out.

He took a quick shower, feeling really good about getting clean after, well, who knew how many days. Clearly this time travel stuff was not going to be easy on his daily necessities; it was a good thing he was used to being on tour.

Not really knowing what else to do, Pete gave Patrick a call, hoping really fucking hard that they still knew each other.

"Hello?"

"Patrick?"

"Yeah, Pete. What's up?"

Pete heaved a huge sigh of relief, ignoring the niggling in his stomach merely at hearing Patrick's voice. "Can you come over?"

"Uh, sure. I'll be over in ten."

Pete waited sort of anxiously, although he didn't really know why. Maybe it was just because he hadn't seen Patrick in awhile. Yeah, that had to be it; Patrick had last been around when they were spies.

Pete jumped when the doorbell rang, and he hurried over to answer the door. As soon as he opened the door, the niggling sensation from before came back with a vengeance. Okay, so there was obviously something going on other than just missing Patrick.

Pete eyed Patrick up and down, trying to figure out what was up. Yes, he was glad to see Patrick. He actually really kind of wanted to throw himself at Patrick and not let go for awhile; having his best friend around almost always helped him think more clearly.

There was no reason not to pull Patrick into a hug, so Pete did. Yeah, that was better. And Patrick was squeezing back, just breathing calmly into Pete's ear, and Pete had the sudden thought that if he turned his head, it would be remarkably easy to press their lips together.

Pete startled at the thought, pulling away a little bit abruptly. So that had been the nagging feeling he'd had since he woke up; he was so, so gay. And quite possibly a little bit in love with Patrick. He'd always loved Patrick more than pretty much anyone ever, but this definitely had a rip-your-clothes-off, fuck-your-brains-out kind of element to it.

Pete was thrown enough by the discovery that he just slumped slowly to the floor. Patrick crouched next to him, looking worried.

"Are you okay?"

God, that sounded familiar.

"Would it be out of line to ask if I could kiss you?" Pete didn't know why, exactly, he said it, but well, he really did want to. Normally, he'd just go for it – screw asking – but this was Patrick.

Patrick looked slightly taken aback. "But. You told me last week that you just wanted to be friends."

"That was fucking bullshit on my part. I'm not sure I've ever wanted anyone as much as I want you."

He pulled Patrick into a kiss that was really awkward but so, so right. Patrick shifted a little so he was straddling Pete, making everything a lot less awkward. They sat making out in the front hall for a few minutes before Pete's ass really started to hurt. He pulled out of the kiss, marveling a little that he'd ended up with one hand in Patrick's hair and one on his ass without realizing it.

"Can we move this to the couch? I think my ass is going numb."

They did manage to make it to the couch after another few minutes, where Pete promptly sat on the television remote. Seeing as he was still kissing Patrick, he didn't really pay it a lot of attention at first. At least, not until he heard something about a population crisis and birth rates being at an all-time low. That made him pause, no matter how tempting Patrick looked sprawled on top of him and mussed all to hell. Pete pulled back to catch his breath and watch CNN over Patrick's shoulder.

_"Birth rates remain at an all-time low and appear to be dropping further. With the population crisis continuing, the newly formed Council for Repopulation is asking that more female couples consider having children._

According to spokeswoman Susan Long, the CFR is working on drafting legislation that requires women under the age of 35 to be tested for fertility. No official word yet on whether or not there will be a mandatory pregnancy program, although Long reports that the issue is undergoing careful consideration."

Pete just sort of sat in frozen horror, wondering how the hell anything like that had happened. Patrick, seeing that he'd lost Pete's attention completely, slid off of Pete and onto the couch next to him.

"Crazy, isn't it? That they might try to force women to have children."

"But why, how…?" Pete was not doing a great job of getting his mind around the concept.

"Come on, Pete. You know what it's been like since everyone went gay. Hell, you only graduated with a few hundred people in the middle of Chicago."

"Wait, everyone's gay?" Patrick just gave him a 'duh' look. "Alright, stupid question. But at least that explains some things," Pete muttered more to himself than to Patrick.

"What?"

"Nothing." Pete kind of crawled into Patrick's lap and straddled him. "Hi," he said just before going in for another kiss.

They spent the next hour or so making out, with Patrick sort of pushing the boundaries and Pete pulling back. He just couldn't feel comfortable having gay sex on his first day as a gay man, even if it was with Patrick.

Finally, Patrick pried himself away from Pete with the excuse that he really needed to go home and get some work done. Pete was sad to see him go, but at the same time, he was glad for the chance to turn CNN on and try to take in the situation.

Pete's mom came home a couple of hours later with the woman who had lived across the street from them for most of Pete's life. Only, Pete got the feeling that she didn't live across the street anymore.

"Pete, honey, I wish you wouldn't get so caught up in that," his mom said when she saw what he was watching. "I know it's upsetting, but there's really not much you can do about it."

Pete looked at his mother as he turned off the TV. "Yeah, Mom. I know."

He hugged her and headed to his room, fiddling with the time machine, glad that he _could_ actually change things. He really didn't need to be responsible for the downfall of the human race.

When he got up to his room, Pete saw one of his old backpacks next to his desk with a twenty sticking out of one of the pockets. He realized that it might actually be a good idea to take some stuff with him, and it would definitely be a good idea to get more money from the bank in case he needed it, because God knew if it'd still be there after he changed things.

To that end, Pete packed some water, soda, snack food, a notebook, some miscellaneous items of clothing (just in case), and a picture of him, Patrick, Andy and Joe that he found on a shelf, into his backpack, figuring that that would be good enough for the time being. After a quick trip down to the bank, Pete sent himself back to 1953.


	2. The Day Pete Wentz Fucked up the World

*****

Pete found himself on a downtown street, although he wasn't sure exactly where. Indianapolis, maybe. It was actually a fairly nice-looking city. Shops lined both sides of the street, all looking rather quaint and, well, 50s-ish.

He started walking down the street, glancing in shop windows and eyeing the women walking down the street. Not so much because they were attractive, but more because of their clothing. Pretty much all of them were wearing poodle skirts or dresses that looked just like them. And not that Pete would admit it to anyone, but he had kind of a fondness for the poodle skirt look.

When Pete came to the next clothing store, he couldn't help it; he had to go in and get a closer look. And okay, he was getting strange looks from the women in the store, but hey, his presence wasn't that weird, was it?

So maybe it was, so fucking what?

After about ten minutes of just looking around, Pete was so pissed off at all the staring that he did something that was possibly a little drastic. He grabbed a handful of dresses and headed for the fitting rooms.

Unsurprisingly, he was stopped, but when he slipped the woman working there a twenty, she let him by. Pete went into a room, trying on a couple dresses before he found one that fit really well.

He walked out of the room and to the full-length mirrors to look at himself. It was all he could do to keep from laughing at the looks he got as he twirled in front of the mirror, fascinated by the way the skirt flared out.

After he got tired of that, he went and put his clothes back on, judging by the ruckus coming from outside the room that he should just use the time machine from there. He switched it to take him to the present just as someone began banging on the door.

*****

Once again, Pete had the good fortune to pop into his own house, sighing in relief when everything looked normal. That is, until he went to his room and found absolutely no evidence of Fall Out Boy. As a matter of fact, he saw a framed degree hanging on the wall. Apparently he'd graduated from the John Marshall Law School. Oh, hell.

Pete's first thought was about why he was still living with his parents if he was a lawyer. His second was whether he still knew the guys or not. He called Patrick, who didn't answer, but his voicemail said he could be reached at a little dive bar they'd played at once or twice when they had just started out as a band.

It was really not in the best neighborhood, and Pete kind of couldn't believe that Patrick would work at a place like that. It worried him, and well, he really just needed to go make sure Patrick was alright; then he'd worry about Joe and Andy.

Pete realized that he had no way to get to the bar, so he made himself look as nondescript as possible and took the bus. The stop he got off at was thankfully only a few blocks from the bar. As he walked up, he saw a number of young girls and a few guys hanging out in the alley behind the bar.

They were pretty obviously hookers, and Pete wouldn't even have given them a second look if he hadn't seen a familiar head of hair. It was kind of impossible to miss Joe when he hadn't cut his hair in awhile.

Pete hesitated, not sure exactly what to do. He ended up wandering closer, and he saw Andy standing a little behind Joe. How the hell could this have happened to his best friends?

"Joe?" Pete asked tentatively when he got close enough to be heard.

He focused on Joe, studiously ignoring the few people who were obviously working. Not that he was opposed to watching people having sex, but he'd never really gone for the hooker thing.

Joe looked at him without a hint of recognition. "How do you know my name?"

Pete winced at Joe's tone. There was no emotion there; no anger, no fear, nothing.

"We used to know each other years ago." Pete had no idea whether that was true or not, but it didn't really matter.

Once again, Joe's reaction was somewhat underwhelming. "Oh, okay. Is that why you're here? Or were you looking for something else?" Joe's manner and stance changed immediately. He sort of leaned in toward Pete, but managed not to crowd him. "I can be very…accommodating."

Pete was sure he'd never heard Joe sound quite like that before, and he stumbled back a step in surprise. Joe was far better at sounding appealing than Pete would have guessed. "Uh, no. No, I'm not here for that. Just, how the hell did you end up here?"

"Me and Andy," Joe said, gesturing at the other man who just looked at Pete blankly, "got left high and dry by this asshole a few years ago. Had nowhere to go, so we ended up here. Our friend works in the bar and helps keep this a safe place to work."

Pete really wanted to ask why they hadn't just gone home or anything, so he could figure this out, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was the asshole that had left them. And showing how much he knew about their lives before might not be a good idea if he didn't want them to figure out who he was. Hell, he wasn't even sure why they hadn't, just glad for it.

"Oh uh, that really fucking sucks. Um, maybe I could…yeah. Here," Pete said, pulling a handful of twenties out of his pocket and awkwardly shoving them at Joe.

"I knew you were here for something." And God, Joe didn't sound even the slightest bit triumphant as he started undoing Pete's belt right then and there. "Blowjob sound good?" he asked.

It was quite obvious that Joe wasn't really looking for an answer since he kept right on working Pete's pants open while Pete only managed to splutter a little. And holy shit, apparently the gay thing hadn't gone away because Pete was hard practically the second Joe got a slightly cold hand on his dick. Pete finally found his words, but they did little good.

"Really Joe, you don't have to-" Pete broke off with a choked gasp as Joe effortlessly slid to his knees and took Pete into his mouth with no warning. Pete couldn't help letting out a groan as Joe idly ran his tongue around the head of Pete's dick.

Joe looked up and pulled off for a second. "You might wanna keep it down a little."

And with that, Pete was really aware of his surroundings and the fact that oh hey, there were about half a dozen people watching Joe go down on him. He was sure he'd be embarrassed later that that didn't cause his erection to flag in the slightest. At present, though, he could only concentrate on not bucking his hips too hard as Joe once again began sucking him off like the pro he apparently was.

And God, within a minute, Pete felt ready to burst. It only took a sneaky finger making its way back to rub around his asshole for him to come as hard as he ever had, into Joe's mouth. Joe pulled off him again, spitting on the ground and straightening up.

Pete had to just lean against the wall of the bar for a minute before he even felt like he could move. When he did finally move, though, he quickly tucked himself back in and buttoned up his jeans. Joe was looking at him and drinking a can of soda that had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and Pete unexpectedly felt a blush spread over his cheeks.

"Uh, I've gotta, uh, go now," he mumbled, sort of inching his way out of the alley.

"Sure. And don't forget to come back sometime," Joe replied with a wink and a heated smile.

Pete knew those gestures were all for show, but they still managed to cause a shiver down his spine. He fled the alley and only stopped when he was several blocks away. With slightly shaking hands, he got the time machine ready to send him to 1945.

*****

Once again, it looked like he was in Chicago, and what was up with going to different places sometimes, anyway? Pete was pretty sure he'd never actually be able to figure that one out, so it was probably better to just let it lie. He looked around, and although things weren't exactly as he remembered them, Pete was pretty sure he was somewhere familiar.

He walked down the street a little, and when he came to an intersection, he knew why. Pete was only two blocks from his grandparents' house, and he practically ran to there. Before he could think about it much, he knocked on the door. When his grandmother answered the door (and God, she looked just like she did in the old photographs his mom had), he really had no idea what to say.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

At her look, Pete realized that he probably looked really out of place with his tight clothes and eyeliner. "Um well, I'm Jack's cousin, Peter. But I suppose he's probably not here right now."

"No, he's at work."

"Alright yeah, I was just in town because my, uh, band is playing, and I thought I'd stop by to say hello. Could you maybe tell him I was here?"

"Alright."

Pete turned to walk away when his grandmother spoke again. "You must be in an interesting band."

Pete turned back just in time to see her checking out his clothing. He chuckled. "Yeah, we like to think we're ushering in the future."

"We've got a strange future coming, if you are."

"We might at that," he said, smiling.

She smiled back. "I'll be sure to tell Jack you stopped by."

"Thanks." Pete walked away and down the street, setting the time machine to go to the present.

*****

Pete stumbled a little at his sudden dizziness and was only kept from falling down a staircase by an extremely skinny, black-haired guy who caught his arm.

"Careful, Pete," he said with a smile as he yanked Pete toward him and their bodies crashed together.

Pete was caught a little off-guard, so he didn't move away before the other man did. He followed along behind, wondering who that was and where they were. As they walked into another room, he started to get an idea of the where. It was a film set, but well, it pretty obviously didn't have a large budget. And judging by the fact that the set was a bedroom and there were condoms and lube everywhere, he had the sneaking suspicion that it was a porn set.

"Pete, babe. Good to see you. We need you ready, ASAP. So go get your makeup done and get back out here."

The man, who was obviously the director, pushed him toward another room. The girl in there looked at him expectantly, and he sat on the stool in front of her.

"For God's sake, Pete, shirt off; you know that."

"Oh, right."

With his shirt off, the girl went to work and sent him back fifteen minutes later. And really, Pete didn't think he could be blamed for the staring he did, what with the mostly-naked guys walking around. The black-haired guy from earlier was only wearing boxers, and geez, was that Frank Iero in a pair of barely-there briefs? Okay, this might not be so bad.

"Alright, Jeremy on the bed. Pete comes in and gets your boxers off and blows you. Got it? Good."

Nice that he got to find out the black-haired dude's name, considering he was supposed to be blowing him in mere moments.

"Action!"

Oh, and there was his cue.

Pete sauntered in and got Jeremy's boxers off with a quick pull. Damn, the guy really was skinny. Like, William Beckett skinny. Pete took some time to lick around Jeremy's hipbones before moving down to his dick, which was long, but skinny. Kind of like Jeremy himself.

Okay, so Pete had never actually sucked dick before, but as he licked around the head of Jeremy's, he knew it wasn't going to be a hardship. Jeremy let out a low moan as Pete actually got down to business. He pushed his mouth down until he had about half of Jeremy's dick in it and began swirling his tongue around and bring his hand up to rub Jeremy's balls.

Jeremy let out a squeak and pushed at him. "Jesus Pete, I'm gonna come if you keep that up."

Pete backed off and wiped at his mouth. "Sorry?"

"Hey, it's cool. Just don't wanna lose it too soon, you know," Jeremy said, gesturing at his dick kind of shyly.

Pete grinned hugely and was amused to see Jeremy blush bright red.

The director spoke again. "Alright guys, alright. Jeremy, condom. Frank, get in here and start lubing Pete up. Condom for you, too. Otherwise just go with what works. You sure you're still up for it, Pete?"

"Up for what?"

"Oh, for the love of…the double penetration. You still good with it?"

"Um, I guess, yeah," Pete said without thinking.

"Great, then let's get on with it. Ready? Action."

Apparently Frank was really quick, because he was tugging Pete's pants off as soon as the director stopped talking. Pete looked over his shoulder at Frank, and oh, he was naked, too. Pete had to sit down to get his jeans all the way off, and by the time he managed to kick them off, Frank was staring at him with a heated look while Jeremy pulled him further back on the bed.

They somehow conspired to turn him over, and before Pete knew it, he was lying on top of Jeremy and kissing him while Frank worked a finger into him. And, well, it was a little awkward at first, what with Frank stretching him open.

Pete was actually kind of relieved to find that he seemed to be leading with Jeremy, who was really kind of kissing him like an inexperienced teenager. Concentrating on Jeremy helped him put the whole weird, sort of uncomfortable fingering thing to the back of his mind. Well, mostly anyway.

It got better after a little while, though, when Frank had a couple of fingers in him and curled them forward. Pete shuddered and ground himself against Jeremy's leg; it was still a little weird, but he could definitely get used to that feeling. There was a certain amount of burn as Frank worked a third finger into Pete's ass, but Pete was still doing alright.

At a fourth finger, Pete had to just pause and breathe. Frank leaned down over him, ostensibly to kiss Jeremy, but he whispered in Pete's ear before leaning up again. "God, Pete, what the hell happened? You're a lot tighter than I remember."

Pete turned to answer and found that he didn't know what to say, so he gave a small shrug. As Frank stretched him open, Pete turned his attention to Jeremy's erection again, stroking it slowly to keep him hard without pushing him over the edge.

It felt like seconds later that Frank was removing his fingers, leaving Pete feeling just a bit empty. Almost immediately, Frank took Jeremy's dick from his hand, helping line Jeremy up to push into Pete. After four fingers, having a dick up his ass didn't really seem all that bad; it was kinda weird, sure, but not bad.

Jeremy sort of made an attempt to thrust into Pete, but he didn't have any leverage, so he just ended up shifting a little. Pete huffed out a small breath and shifted himself around; that was more like it.

Before long, they had a good rhythm going, and Pete had just managed to hit that really nice spot again when Frank stopped him. Pete very nearly whined, but it sort of morphed into a gasp as Frank stuck a finger in him again. And yeah, Pete knew it was necessary, but that didn't stop him from trying to shift away from the intrusion.

It was even slower going with both a cock and fingers. By the time Frank managed to work a second finger into him, Pete was feeling kind of breathless. He was relieved when Frank removed the fingers, until he felt Frank's dick right up next to Jeremy's.

As Frank started to push in, Pete's breathing began to get faster and faster. The pain got worse, his breathing got more labored, and…Pete maybe kind of passed out. When he came to, he was a bit disoriented, but that was cleared up quickly.

"Are you alright? You lost consciousness for a couple minutes on me." Jeremy looked a little worried.

Pete took a deep breath and shifted slightly. Holy shit, both of them were inside of him. "Yeah, I'm okay," he sort of grunted.

"Good," Frank said, starting very slowly to pull out.

Pete couldn't do anything but groan. He had lost his erection completely, but it came back full force with Frank's movements. There was almost continual pressure on his prostate as they fucked him, and Pete could barely stand the feeling. He tried in vain to shift away from it, to get some relief, anything; nothing seemed to help.

As they continued to fuck him, Pete found himself getting closer and closer, and finally he couldn't take it anymore, coming all over Jeremy's stomach with an incomprehensible noise. He shivered his way through his orgasm, distantly aware of Jeremy coming as well.

Frank, however, kept up his thrusting, and Pete's vision started to go gray again. Luckily, Frank came before Pete actually managed to pass out a second time. He sighed in relief when Frank pulled out, although the relief was short-lived since he had to move off of Jeremy.

He managed to roll to the side, but his ass hurt so fucking much that he just needed to lie there. After about ten minutes, Pete opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Jeremy, who was pulling on a jacket.

"You good to get home?" he asked, not meeting Pete's eyes.

"I think so."

"Good, I'll see you in a few days." He waved vaguely in Pete's direction and walked out.

Pete wasn't quite as well off as he had claimed, and it took him half an hour to get dressed and limp down to his car. Of course, then he realized that home might not actually be home and checked his license. He headed for the address on it, which turned out to be an apartment.

Once there, he got something to eat and settled himself on the sofa, grabbing his cell phone with the intention to call Patrick. Except that Patrick didn't seem to be one of his contacts. In fact, his parents' number and a work number were the only ones saved to his phone. God, he didn't even want to contemplate how lonely his life must be if he didn't have anyone's number in his phone. Instead, he just lay down right where he was and fell asleep almost immediately.

When Pete woke up, he looked at the nearest clock and found that he'd been asleep for over 12 hours. He was pretty sure that was a record for him, not counting times when he'd been sick, of course.

It still hurt quite a bit to move, but at least it was a little better than it had been the day before. His first move was to head for the bathroom and to down some painkillers. That done, he decided to eat a little breakfast before using the time machine again, this time going to 1933.

*****

Pete showed up once again in the middle of a neighborhood, although he really didn't know where for sure. Just that there were a number of houses that didn't look very well-kept. This, he guessed, was kind of unsurprising since the Depression was in full swing. And that gave him an idea.

He pulled some of his money out of his backpack and walked up to the nearest house, leaving a couple hundred dollars in the mailbox. He did this with four more houses and then got ready to head back to the present.

*****

Pete didn't even have time to take in his surroundings before another person crashed into him. He fell back into an armchair, and Patrick clung to him, seemingly trying to climb up his body.

"Patrick, what's wrong?"

Pete had never seen him act like this before, in all the years that they'd known each other. Before Patrick could answer, though, Gabe Saporta walked through the front door, pointing a gun at them. Pete didn't know what to say, or even what to think, so he just sat there and stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. Luckily, Patrick collected himself enough to say something, saving Pete the trouble.

"Gabe stopped by my place today to ask me out again," he said in a deceptively calm voice. "He wouldn't believe me when I told him we were dating, so I told him I'd prove it."

Patrick pulled back to look Pete in the eye then, and Pete could guess from the look on his face how things had gone down. Gabe must have pulled the gun out at Patrick's place, and it was pretty obvious that Patrick had managed to get him believing that they might be dating, although why that mattered, Pete wasn't sure.

"And how are we supposed to prove it?"

Gabe answered him this time, with a decidedly crazy look in his eyes. "You fuck. And if I don't believe it, I kill you."

"But why?" Pete couldn't help the confused question.

"Because," Gabe was visibly trying to keep his temper, "if he's with you, I respect that. But if he just doesn't want me…" Gabe trailed off, waving the gun a little.

And okay, that didn't exactly make sense to Pete, but Gabe was obviously past any kind of logic anyway. At least Pete could do something about the situation.

"Alright, yeah. Um, just let me…maybe we could go to the bedroom?"

Gabe nodded, and Pete sort of pried Patrick from him. He led the way, doing a lot better about not freaking out than he thought he was capable of. Then again, he needed to help Patrick, and really, what could be more important than that?

Pete whipped off his shirt and tossed it aside, working through what he needed to do to make this work. He was pretty sure he was gonna have to fuck Patrick since really, he was still in enough pain that getting fucked would be out of the question. He just hoped that Patrick would be alright with it.

Patrick, unsurprisingly, was reluctant to have Pete remove his shirt and hat, but a look over at Gabe, who was sitting at Pete's desk and watching them intently, made him change his mind. Pete leaned into Patrick, sort of kissing at his neck, but really taking the chance to whisper to him.

"Just try to relax and follow my lead, okay? And don't look at Gabe; focus on me."

Patrick gave a small nod as Pete unbuttoned his jeans. Pete then stepped away and got his own undone and off while Patrick pushed his own jeans and boxers off. Pete locked eyes with Patrick, giving him a smirk and pushing him onto the bed. Pete flopped down on the bed next to Patrick and rooted around under it. And damn, he had never been happier that he was so predictable about where he left condoms and lube.

He shifted until he had one leg between Patrick's and was lying half on top of him before leaning down to kiss him. Yeah, Pete was really fucking glad that he could get it up easily; at least he wouldn't have to worry about that. He wasn't so great at multi-tasking, though, so he had to pause to get the condom open and on and to get some lube on his fingers.

Pete could tell that Patrick was looking at Gabe again, because he was tensing up. Pete quickly went back to kissing him and hey, apparently that really was a good distraction, because Pete felt Patrick start to harden against his thigh.

Pete moved his hand down, giving Patrick's dick a quick stroke, down further to fondle his balls, until he got to Patrick's asshole and slid his finger halfway in. Patrick made a small noise of discomfort, but he was still accommodating when Pete pressed in further.

Patrick clung to Pete as he was stretched open with first two, then three, fingers. When Pete finally pulled his fingers free, Patrick didn't seem to want him to go, and he had to smile a little at that. Pete shifted himself again to lie completely on top of Patrick, who bent his knees in accommodation.

Pete pushed his dick into Patrick slowly, not stopping until he was all the way in. As he pulled back out, he realized that there was no way this would work. His ass had started hurting again, and he just didn't think he'd be up to that much movement. But maybe – Pete pushed back in and leaned forward.

"We're gonna roll over, okay? I want you to ride me."

Patrick shuddered a little, but he moved when Pete did, ending up straddling Pete's thighs and panting hard. He shifted for a moment and started really moving, lifting up only slightly at first but going higher as moving got easier. Pete had a hard time not moving, but he discovered that if he moved only slightly, it didn't really hurt.

Patrick began making a sort of desperate whimpering sound, and Pete took that as his cue to jerk Patrick off. He was pretty obviously right since Patrick came only a minute later, huffing out Pete's name. Pete was so, so close to coming, too, but he just wasn't quite there. Until, of course, Patrick leaned down and gave his nipple a sharp bite. And damn, Pete had no idea he'd have any kind of reaction to that at all, let alone coming hard.

They both lay there for a minute, just breathing, until Patrick flicked his gaze quickly toward Gabe. Which, of course, completely killed the mood. On the plus side, Gabe didn't look nearly so angry anymore; he actually looked kind of sad.

"Sorry I tried to get between the two of you."

With that, he just walked out, and they heard the front door slam behind him. Patrick sagged in relief, beginning to shake slightly. Pete was pretty freaked out, himself.

"You okay?" he asked, disentangling from Patrick so they could lie next to each other.

Patrick was silent for a moment. "Fuck, Pete," he started, his voice breaking, "I was so fucking scared. Like, what if he hadn't believed me, or what if you hadn't helped, or what if he wasn't convinced, or-"

Pete covered Patrick's mouth with his hand. "I'm glad he believed you, and you know I'll always be here for you. But Patrick, there's no way he couldn't be convinced that I love you."

Patrick just pulled him into a full-body hug, where they stayed until he fell asleep. Pete wasn't really tired, and well, he kind of needed to get a handle on things. Because shit, did he ever love Patrick, was so in love that he wasn't sure what to do about it. Nothing like almost losing someone to reinforce the love you had for them.

Not that it really mattered immediately, since there was no way he was staying here with a crazy Gabe Saporta who was after Patrick. But at some point, he was sure things would be okay, and when they were, he needed to know that he could get Patrick to love him back.

Either way, he wanted to get moving before Patrick woke up, so he could be spared from any more of what he was feeling. After a quick shower, Pete took all the cash he could find lying around before heading back to 1926.

*****

Pete was dizzy as soon as he popped in, and the unexpected heat made it worse. He plopped down on the side of the street, waiting for it to pass. He didn't know exactly where he was, but it was obviously a big city.

Pete pulled off the hoodie he was wearing, trying in vain to make himself cooler. And then he had a good – well, probably actually kind of stupid – idea. He fiddled with the time machine as he walked over to an alley across the street. He quickly stripped off his clothes and hid them behind some trash before jogging out of the alley and down the street. Almost everyone stopped to stare as he ran past.

Pete ran for a block before turning and running down another street. He circled back and ran into the alley again, getting redressed as fast as possible and going back to the present.


	3. The Day Pete Wentz Fucked up the World

*****

Pete sat down right where he was, on the side of a residential street, taking a minute to laugh himself stupid at the shocked looks on people's faces at his streaking. Until, that is, he saw a guy walking down the street naked.

He was sufficiently freaked out and headed toward Patrick's place, which he realized was close by, once he got his bearings. And okay, he only saw a few people on the way there, but they were all naked, and it was just weird. He rang the doorbell when he got to Patrick's place, and the door opened just as Pete turned to stare at a hot guy who was walking his dog.

He snapped back around right away so Patrick wouldn't know what he was doing, but when he did, all such thoughts fled from his mind. It wasn't like it should have been a surprise for Patrick to be naked, but still. Patrick took one look at him and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind them.

"What the hell, Pete? You know you could get fined for that."

"For what?"

Patrick threw his hands up in exasperation. "The clothes, Pete. Where did you manage to find any, anyway?"

"Oh um, they were in the back of my closet."

"Well, fucking get rid of them, alright? We don't need you getting in trouble for something as stupid as that."

Pete shrugged and pulled off his shirt, but after that, he got a little, well, shy. Which was stupid, since he'd never been shy about stripping before. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact that Patrick was just standing there, watching him.

Pete took a deep breath, thought 'fuck it', and stripped the rest of the way, stuffing his clothes in his backpack. It was sort of unnerving to have Patrick looking at him, not with lust or timidity, just looking. Like this was an everyday thing, which Pete supposed it probably was for him.

"So," Pete said, more to distract himself from naked Patrick than because he really cared, "exactly how long ago were clothes banned?"

Patrick gave him a funny look. "Pete, you know that was ten years ago. What is with you today?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just being weird." Pete tried out his best charming smile, which totally failed to work on Patrick.

"Come on, we'd better go get lunch before it gets too hot."

They left Patrick's apartment and drove downtown, stopping at Pete's favorite pizza place. Pete was not exactly happy, but that was mostly because he was pretty much talking down an erection the entire time. So many hot, naked people were out and about that it was hardly surprising.

They ate fairly quickly, at Patrick's insistence, but apparently it wasn't quickly enough. By the time they left, it was hot as hell outside, and there was pretty much no one around.

"Damn, it's hot," Pete said unnecessarily.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Patrick replied, scoffing a little bit. "What did you expect, staying outside after noon?"

Pete didn't know exactly what to say to that. "Patrick, what's the date today?"

"February 15th."

And okay, Pete had expected something like mid-July; February wasn't even a possibility. "We _are_ in Chicago, right?"

"Um, yeah. Pete, are you sure you're alright?

Pete nodded. "Of course. I'm just really hot."

It wasn't a lie – Pete was sweating bullets – but he really wasn't alright. This situation was in no way okay. Pete was pretty sure he could get used to the constant nudity, but so hot in February that they needed to stay indoors in the afternoon? No thank you. He shuddered to think what the actual summer months would be like.

Unfortunately, he couldn't really leave Patrick's place once they got there since it was definitely too hot for that. He also didn't want to try to use the time machine while Patrick was around, so he figured he'd just stick it out until nightfall. Apparently afternoon was naptime anyway, since Patrick headed to his room, offering a 'sleep well' before disappearing inside.

Pete lay on the couch but found that he wasn't tired enough to sleep. He got up and walked quietly over to Patrick's room, watching the other man breathe evenly in his sleep. He stood there for a few more minutes before carefully crawling into the bed and curling himself around Patrick. It still took him awhile to fall asleep, but he was happy just to be that near to Patrick.

By the time Pete woke, it was starting to get dark out. He went to stretch and thought he was dreaming when he bumped into naked Patrick. He curled into Patrick and started absently stroking Patrick's side. It wasn't until Patrick's eyes opened, peering at him in confusion, that Pete remembered what was going on. He pulled away and got up before Patrick could say anything, grabbing his backpack and heading toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Patrick looked so sleepy and adorable that Pete was really tempted not to leave. Then he thought of the events of the afternoon and remembered why he needed to get out of there.

"I'm gonna head home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright, Pete. Bye." Pete waved and headed outside, going down the next alley he came to to put his clothing back on and fire up the time machine.

*****

Pete popped into the year 1916, which he only knew because of the newspaper lying on the ground next to him (he decided there would be no more random button pushing after this because, well, it had been kind of stupid in the first place). He wasn't exactly sure where he was at first, but judging by the look of things, he guessed California. He started walking down the street, not really sure what to do, when he thought he saw someone familiar walking on the other side of the street. He quickly crossed, and yeah, that was actually Charlie Chaplin.

"Oh God, you're Charlie Chaplin, aren't you?" Pete couldn't help asking.

"Yes, I am."

Pete was so excited that he hardly knew what to do with himself. He stuck his hand out. "I'm Pete. It's such an honor to meet you, sir. I've seen all your movies, and they're just wonderful," Pete said, enthusiastically shaking the hand grasping his.

The other man looked mildly amused. "Well, thank you very much."

"Of course. I'll let you go now; sorry to disturb."

"Not at all."

Pete trotted off with a huge smile on his face, heading behind the nearest building to get back to the present.

*****

Pete swayed for a minute when he got there, falling back onto the sofa behind him so as not to have to try to catch his balance. He sighed and sank down further, just wanting a moment where he didn't have to deal with whatever shit this new timeline might bring him. With his luck, though, he wasn't really surprised when his moment was broken by Patrick walking into the room with none other than Pete himself.

"Um, I can explain," Pete said immediately, trying to buy some time.

"Explain what?" Patrick asked as the pair looked at each other in confusion.

Shit, Pete had clearly missed something. "Nothing, nothing."

Patrick looked at him suspiciously, and Pete put on his best innocent face. "Alright, are we still on for shopping this afternoon?"

"Sure, sounds good. Now?"

"If you're ready now."

"Yep, I'm ready." Pete dropped his bag on the floor and stood up.

Patrick, God, kissed the other him, and that was just a whole other level of surreal. He was still staring when Patrick came over and grabbed his arm, pulling him out the door.

"What's with you today?"

Pete was so fucking tired of answering variations of that question, but he put that aside since Patrick meant well. "Nothing, just thinking a little bit."

"You are okay with this whole thing, right? I mean, he is your twin after all, and I wouldn't want to mess things up between you, you know."

"Really, it's fine," Pete responded, trying to wrap his mind around that and not really thinking about what he was saying.

"Good, because I really fucking need your help. I'm so fucking clueless, and I just need this to be perfect. After all, it's not every day you propose to your boyfriend."

Pete, being the overly dramatic bastard that he was, could have sworn that he stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating right then. All that really happened was that he inhaled sharply and pasted a smile on his face when Patrick looked over at him.

"Yeah, of course not. And who better to help you than his twin brother?"

"Well yeah, but I'd want your help anyway, Pete. You're still my best friend."

That, of course, was the metaphorical nail in the coffin. Having to help Patrick plan a proposal to someone who looked just like him but wasn't actually him was really not his idea of a good time. Not that he was gonna be able to get away from Patrick for long enough to use the time machine; once he was on a mission, nothing could interfere.

Pete sighed inwardly. "Alright, what were you thinking?"

"Um, well. I don't know." Patrick's eyes widened. "Please, please, please. I have no idea, Pete."

"Of course, Patrick. Let me think for a minute."

Pete really didn't know what to say. It wasn't like he actually knew anything about this twin; fuck, Pete still hadn't caught his _name_. Then again, he could always just tell Patrick what _he_ would want. And yeah, that was kind of a great idea, because then he could sort of pretend that Patrick was gonna propose to him. Yeah, he was kind of pathetic.

"Well, how about this?"

And Pete proceeded to outline the perfect proposal, which was surprisingly simple. He really wanted nothing more than to eat take-out from his favorite Chinese place and maybe watch a few movies. And he'd possibly been thinking about how cool it would be to propose along with a movie. But not something too stupid or sappy, something like _Down With Love_, maybe. Pete had been mildly worried that Patrick would laugh at him, but Patrick just took in everything Pete said with interest.

Pete was so ready to be out of there after that, but no. He had to spend the rest of the afternoon helping Patrick clean his apartment and otherwise get things ready for that night. He heaved a sigh of relief as Patrick finally shoved him out the door with a panicked, 'shit, Ben's gonna be here soon!'

It figured that his twin would get the cooler name. Pete went back to his place to pick up his backpack, fired up the time machine, and set it for 1837.

*****

Pete expected some significant differences, and there were some, but it didn't look nearly as weird as he expected for that long of a jump back in time. Sure, there were fewer buildings and the people looked quite a bit different, but it was still a town. Unfortunately, though, he was getting some strange looks.

He saw a tavern a few buildings down and decided to duck in to get away from the staring. He sat down at a table in one corner, taking off his hoodie and hanging it over the back of his chair. Within minutes, Pete realized that going there had probably not been a good idea.

People didn't look any too pleased to see him, and there was a good deal of muttering going around. Making sure he had his bag, Pete made a quick exit and went around to the back of the building. He got the time machine working before anyone else saw him.

*****

Pete wasn't exactly sure what was going on when he popped into the present because he was lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. He rolled over and bumped into another body. The guy lying next to him grumbled and shifted a bit, muttering, 'stop moving, Pete.'

Pete did so for a minute before curiosity got the best of him and he rose up slowly to peer over the other guy's shoulder, seeing that he was sharing a bed with none other than Gerard Way. At this point, he was inclined to just accept it, especially since he was kind of tired, the room was dark, and the situation could wait until later.

Pete didn't know how many hours later it was when he woke up, but he was feeling pretty well-rested. He stretched and was startled to see Gerard propped up on an elbow, watching him.

"Morning," Gerard said as Pete jumped slightly.

"Um, hi." Pete pulled the covers up over his nose and peered at Gerard over the edge of the blanket.

Pete's eyes widened as Gerard's hand suddenly landed on his thigh and began moving up. He let out a rather unmanly squeak and tried to shift away. It wasn't that Gerard was unattractive or that he necessarily had a problem with casual sex, obviously, but well. Gerard had always kind of freaked Pete out, although he had the sneaking suspicion that it was because they were more alike than he would be comfortable with.

As a consequence, he'd really always kept his thoughts about Gerard platonic and to a minimum. Now, though, his mind couldn't help but race to all sorts of interesting things he could get up to with Gerard. Especially since yeah, they were both kind of naked under the heap of blankets.

"You okay?" Gerard asked, a worried edge to his tone.

"Uh, yeah. Just, um. I've gotta piss."

Gerard let go of him, throwing out a 'hurry back' and a sexy smile as Pete got up. He took longer in the bathroom than was strictly necessary, but he managed to calm his nerves enough so that when he went back out, he was able to throw himself at Gerard with gusto.

By the time they eventually got up, Gerard was hurrying him along, saying something about soundcheck. Pete was sort of out of it, what with all the sex and a lack of coffee, so he just went along with what Gerard told him to do.

So, he got a bit of a shock when they ended up in an arena across the street from their hotel and he was expected to pick up his bass and play with My Chemical Romance. Because apparently, they were his band.

He did as well as he could with soundcheck, but there were some of the songs that he really didn't know all that well. He got some weird looks from the rest of the band, but he shrugged it off; it wasn't like there was much he could do about it right now. After they finished, he had some time to kill before he needed to change, and Gerard was right there to distract him.

"You sure you're alright, Pete? Because you know you can talk to me if you're feeling depressed or something."

And God, Pete never thought he'd see such an understanding look from anyone when talking about his depression, but he supposed it made sense. "Really, Gerard, I'm fine. I'd tell you if something was wrong."

Pete was sure he'd never seen Gerard smile as much as he had that day, and each one seemed to be all for him. He made a mental note to give Gerard a call once he finally got things back to normal. They were obviously good for each other, and Pete could definitely do with someone he felt like he could talk to when he got too down on himself. Assuming he didn't just decide to stay here, of course.

Pete let Gerard drag him back to their hotel room, where they spent awhile just hanging around. Pete got a little restless eventually, and he flipped through the contacts on his cell, meaning to give Patrick a call. When he couldn't find Patrick's number, he began to suspect he wouldn't be staying here after all.

"Gerard, do you have Patrick's number?"

"Patrick who?" Gerard asked absently, focused on the drawing he was working on.

"Stump."

"Don't think I know him."

Pete sighed. "How about your brother?"

"Pete, I haven't spoken to Mikey in years. I don't even know where he is anymore. Last time we talked, he was getting some band together. Fall Over the Bay or something, I think."

Pete's heart lurched a little; Gerard probably meant Fall Out Boy. Well, that explained some things, at least.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe I'll just call _my_ brother."

Pete did end up calling his brother, but mostly because he was afraid Gerard would want to know why he was being so weird. Gerard seemed to have forgotten about the whole brother thing by the time he got Pete's attention to tell him they needed to get changed for the show.

The two of them got ready in comfortable silence, and Pete was gonna be sorry to see this go when he left. Then again, he wanted Patrick back; Patrick was worth it. Not to mention that he hadn't missed the look of pain that crossed Gerard's face when they were talking about Mikey; Pete knew how close they…had been.

Pete enjoyed the show while he could, because it was always pretty awesome to play with My Chem, even if most of the times he'd done that had been dicking around when they were on tour together. They did fairly well overall, and Pete was glad he had managed not to fuck up too badly. And as much as he wanted to hang around for a little longer, he knew it would be best to just get going and not tempt himself with wanting to stick around.

"Wanna head back to the room?" Gerard asked, and Pete knew he should say no. Then again, like he was going to pass up some parting sex?

Pete made sure to dump his clothes in the bathroom so that when he went to clean off after, he could just get dressed and leave from there. Of course, it wasn't until he was halfway dressed that he realized his bag was still out in the room. He peeked out and saw that Gerard was sleeping.

Pete snuck out and grabbed his bag, unable to resist kissing Gerard on the forehead before going back to the bathroom, finishing dressing, and setting the time machine to take him back to 1648.

*****

Pete found himself looking down at the street when he popped in. He saw a dead body at his feet and promptly puked in a nearby bush. By the time he was done and felt like he could look back at the body, there was a small crowd gathered around.

There was a lot of blood slowly pooling outward from the body, and Pete thought that maybe he shouldn't look anymore. Somehow, he hadn't really expected dead bodies on this whole crazy journey, although now he wasn't really sure why.

Pete shuffled a little way away from the body and ended up on the other side of the bush he'd puked by, sitting down with a thud. He saw a flash of something under it, so he reached over and pushed the dirt and leaves around, exposing a bloody knife. He decided at that point that he'd had enough and set the time machine to take him back to the present.

*****

Pete was standing right outside a tour bus, and hoping for the best, he got on. He realized, seeing Andy, Joe, and Patrick sitting around, that he had never been happier to see his band all together. Except then he noticed how worried they all looked until they saw him.

There was a noticeable release in tension as he went to sit beside Patrick, absently throwing his arm around Patrick's shoulders. Then Patrick turned and gave him the evil eye, and Pete should have known by now that something was bound to be wrong.

"What?" he asked, a mixture of resignation and annoyance slipping through in his voice.

"You were _supposed_ to meet me outside as son as you were done changing, but you didn't," Patrick started.

Pete could tell he was just getting warmed up and tried to stall him. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry about that. I got caught up…"

"We know, you got caught up talking to someone in the hallway or couldn't find your hoodie or whatever. But you didn't meet me, and I thought you'd gone missing, and then we had everyone out looking for you-"

Pete put his hand over Patrick's mouth to stop his tirade. "I really am sorry I worried you, but why exactly did you think I'd gone missing?" The other three looked at him like he was crazy, and yeah, Pete was almost getting used to that now.

"Dude, we're like, one of the only bands _not_ to have someone missing."

Pete stared at Joe, not wanting to ask yet another stupid question, but still wondering. "And why are all these people missing?"

"We don't know!" Yeah, Patrick must really be worried if he was sounding that stressed.

"Then why the hell are we touring instead of locked up safe at home?"

"What's with you, Pete? You were the one pushing to go ahead with the tour in the first place. And we only agreed because it didn't really make a difference for anyone else whether they were home or not. You're not changing your mind now, are you?"

"No, no. I'm just…tired. Of all this shit, of everything that's been going on."

"So am I," Patrick muttered. "I'm getting some sleep."

Patrick got up and headed for the bunk area with Andy and Joe following. Pete sat up for only a few more minutes, figuring that he should probably take the chance to get some sleep, too. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow.

When Pete woke up in the morning, the bus was parked at a truck stop. He lay there in contentment, wanting to have a few moments of peace while he could. He was really beginning to appreciate time when he could at least pretend he didn't have anything to worry about. Inevitably, Andy came looking for him sooner rather than later.

He pulled the curtain on Pete's bunk back abruptly. "Pete."

The relief in his voice was palpable, and it was obvious that something must have happened. "What's wrong?"

Pete shot up, unable to help the slightly panicky feeling despite the fact that he knew he could get himself out of whatever trouble had inevitably cropped up. It would be so much easier if he could just turn off his emotions. Like the clench in his gut at Andy's next words.

"Patrick and Joe are gone."

Pete pulled on his hoodie as Andy practically dragged him off the bus. He had the belated thought that his backpack (and therefore also the time machine) was still on the bus, but there was clearly no going back for it right then. They stopped abruptly in front of…was that a police box?

Pete looked up as Andy started talking to someone, finding himself face-to-face with a guy a few years younger than him who was wearing a kilt. And wow, those were some really great legs.

"Pete!"

Pete focused again on the fact that his friends were missing, and that totally put a damper on his admiration for the hot guy. He turned his attention back to Andy.

"This is the Doctor, and that's Jamie. The Doctor says he can help us find Joe and Patrick."

"Yes well, it's just a matter of getting the TARDIS set to the right coordinates to take us to them. Now if you'll excuse us." The Doctor stepped toward the police box, and was halfway inside when Pete grabbed the sleeve of his rather shabby coat.

"Take us with you."

The Doctor frowned as he looked at the hand clutching his sleeve, but his expression smoothed into sympathy when he saw the fear in Pete's eyes. "Alright, come in."

He ushered them in ahead of him and immediately made for the console in the middle of the room. Pete and Andy stood just inside the door, marveling at the apparently very roomy interior.

"Jamie, could you just…" Pete heard distantly, and then the doors shut behind them as Jamie pulled a lever on the console.

Seconds later, there was a whooshing sound, and Pete got over his awe enough to walk over to the console and peer at all the buttons, levers, and meters. Before he even realized it, he was reaching a hand out toward the nearest lever. Suddenly, a hand clamped down around his.

"Don't touch that!" The Doctor sounded almost distressed, and Pete quickly pulled his hand back, not sure why he had reached out in the first place. Fuck only knew what any of those buttons would do.

All of a sudden, the sound stopped, and the Doctor hit a button. A panel opened, displaying a rather large room, the walls of which were lined with transparent capsules.

"Yes well, we'd best get to it." The Doctor hit the button to shut the panel again and pulled the lever to open the doors. They all walked out, and Pete looked once more in wonder at the police box as the Doctor locked its doors. "Jamie, stay with Pete and Andy and help them get these people out." The Doctor went over to the nearest capsule and demonstrated how to get it open. "They'll take several minutes to wake. I have to see if I can do something about their captors."

"Should I not come with y', Doctor?"

"No, Jamie. I need you here, helping get these people out."

"Aye, Doctor."

"Splendid."

The Doctor took off down a corridor while Andy, Pete, and Jamie started opening capsules. They seemed barely to have gotten started when the Doctor came running back in.

"Everybody into the TARDIS!"

He got it open and started ushering people in. Pete kept going with what he was doing, unwilling to give up since they hadn't found Patrick or Joe yet.

"Pete!" Andy was yelling and yanking his arm. "We have to go. The Doctor says this place is gonna blow any minute."

"But we haven't found Patrick and Joe!"

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Pete could see the pain in Andy's eyes. He let Andy pull him into the TARDIS and prop him against one of the walls. He slid down slowly, distantly taking in a conversation between Andy and the Doctor.

From what he gathered, the aliens (_aliens_, holy shit) had thought they were taking the world's leaders, hoping to leave everything in chaos and susceptible to invasion. Pete was in shock long enough for them to get back to Earth once again.

Andy had to lead him out of the TARDIS and back to the bus before Pete could even get beyond the thought of two of his best friends being dead. And when he saw the time machine sticking out of his backpack, he felt a swell of relief greater than any he'd ever had in his life. He didn't have to stay here; he could change it all again and forget this ever happened. Pete didn't even notice Andy trying to get his attention again as he set the time machine for 1523.

*****

Pete found himself in a small clump of trees. Beyond them, he could see a field that went on for his entire line of sight. Of course he should have remembered that he'd be unlikely to see many signs of people, especially if he was anywhere other than the East Coast. Which clearly, yeah.

He looked around, but seeing nothing that he could obviously change, he sighed in frustration. He looked down at his backpack. Well, if nothing else, he could always just leave something behind again.

Pete rooted through the bag, eventually deciding that he could probably part with some clothing. He pulled out an extra t-shirt and managed to get it to stick to the side of one of the trees. Good enough. He once again set the time machine for the present.

*****

Pete found himself standing in a nice-looking apartment, but something felt wrong. At first, he wasn't quite sure what it was, but when he moved, he figured it out pretty quickly. He looked down, and sure enough, he had boobs. He poked one, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Nope, felt real enough.

He took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that this was in no way weirder than his bandmates being abducted by aliens. This would be fine, really. At least no one was dead. Pete flopped down in the nearest chair. This was nothing to be freaked out about; he wasn't going to freak out. He poked his boob again.

Pete wasn't sure how long it was before he heard the front door open, and he absently looked up. There was a pretty girl in the doorway, and she looked slightly familiar.

"Pete, what are you doing?"

Pete looked down again; he was still poking himself. "Uh…"

The girl set down the bags she was carrying and came over to Pete, taking hold of Pete's hand to stop him. "I know it's weird, but you've got to stop doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Freaking out and acting weird. I'm your best friend; can't you just talk to me about this?"

Pete was sure he must be wrong, but… "Patrick?"

"Yes?"

That was enough to snap Pete out of his shock. He stood up and threw his arms around Patrick, and even if it wasn't really right (what with awkward new parts getting in the way), it was still exactly what he needed. His thoughts began to wander back to the alien ship, back to losing Patrick, and Pete stopped them dead in their tracks.

"I'm sorry I was acting strange and worrying you. It's just been difficult."

"I know. It's not like it hasn't been for me, too. It's not every day that you suddenly become a girl."

"Yeah, so like, what happened there, anyway?"

"No one seems to know yet, but hopefully soon? I mean, it's only been a couple weeks, and it's not like there's an easy way to figure out what's going on."

Pete sat down again and watched while Patrick dealt with his bags. He almost laughed when Patrick pulled out a box of tampons, but then Patrick tossed them to him, and he sobered up a bit.

"What are these for?"

"Decorating the Christmas tree. What do you _think_ they're for?"

"Oh." Pete looked down at the box.

Patrick was standing in front of him and sighing. "Pete, you asked me to buy them."

"And you just did it?"

Patrick blushed faintly. "For you, yes." Pete was touched. "And I can't wait to see the look on your face once you've had to use one."

Pete stood up and punched Patrick in the shoulder. "Asshole." Inside, though, he was smiling. Aside from the whole having girl parts thing, it all felt so familiar and reassuring. Maybe he'd stick around for awhile.


	4. The Day Pete Wentz Fucked up the World

*****

Over the next week or so, Pete got slightly more used to his body and made the most of his time with Patrick. It was actually really nice just to do the same old stuff they always did. They hung out with Andy and Joe, they worked on songs, and Pete actually did his laundry.

And best of all, he didn't have to worry about changing things or what crazy problem he might have to deal with next. Sure, he knew he was going to have to use the time machine again since they hadn't had any luck in figuring out how to get him and Patrick back to normal; this wasn't his body, and he couldn't just keep it forever. Still, anything even passing for normalcy was welcome at this point.

It wasn't long, of course, until things went back to being surreal. One day, Pete woke up to stomach cramps and bloody sheets, and that was it. There was no way he was sticking around to try out the whole period thing. Besides, he'd been a girl for plenty too long already.

He cleaned himself up as quickly as he could and changed into some clean clothes. He looked at the box of tampons, not quite able to bring himself to use one. Instead, he stuffed a bunch of toilet paper in his underwear and put a couple of tampons in his backpack, just in case. Setting the time machine for 1246, he pressed start.

*****

Pete was somewhat surprised to find himself in what looked like a laboratory. He didn't have much time to really take it in, though, because he realized upon looking at himself that he was still female. And he had the distinctly unpleasant feeling that he was _leaking_.

He set his backpack down and started rifling through it quickly, eventually pulling things out and tossing them aside until he found a sanitary napkin. God bless Patrick for shoving random shit in his bag (even if it was probably supposed to be a joke); Pete had not been looking forward to trying out one of the tampons.

He ripped it open and got it situated, which helped him feel slightly better. He was still feeling off, though, so he picked everything up and stuffed it back in the bag. He half-heartedly moved a few things around on the nearest table and got the time machine ready. He never noticed the tampon that had accidentally rolled under the table.

*****

Pete found himself sitting on a couch, and he almost cried when he discovered that his chest was flat again and his dick was back. He was kind of surprised by the strong reaction because the whole thing hadn't been _that_ traumatic of an experience.

And boy, when he actually checked out his own body, he had really let himself go. That was just…not right. He lifted his shirt and saw that his bartskull was all stretched out and looked sort of ridiculous. He ran his fingers over it, kind of disappointed that he would let that happen. But then he really paid attention and realized that it didn't feel quite right.

Pete gave his stomach a gentle poke, and the skin was tougher than it should be, kind of like….That's when Pete's brain decided this must be a really weird dream. He could handle suddenly becoming gay, he could handle aliens, hell, he could even handle the whole turning into a girl thing, but being – dare he think it? – pregnant was just a little bit too much.

Pete didn't even try to move, except to give himself a quick pinch, even though he knew that this wasn't going to end up being a dream; he just sat there thinking it through. And okay, it was a little…out there, but it couldn't be too bad, right? After all, it wasn't like he had to stay. Besides, who knew how much other weird stuff he'd have to put up with before he got to the point where he felt like he could stop time traveling.

He couldn't just go shutting down all the time because he was in a situation he wasn't used to; he'd never get anywhere that way. Pete finally stood up, which was not so easy with the extra bulk, and headed for the bathroom. He heard a key in the front door as he was finishing up, and his stomach swooped suddenly at the thought that it might be Patrick.

Actually, this whole thing might not be so bad if Patrick was the…father, or whatever. Pete made his way back to the living room, and he was only slightly disappointed to see Brendon locking the door behind him. Brendon practically skipped over to him and rested his hand on Pete's belly in a very familiar way, and Pete had a feeling he'd be changing things again.

"How's the baby doing today? How are _you_ doing today?"

"We're both fine, Brendon."

"Awesome."

Brendon's smile was wide, and that was actually a really attractive look on him, more attractive than Pete remembered. Then again, the last time Pete had seen Brendon was before the whole suddenly being gay thing, so he supposed it wasn't too surprising.

"I brought some of those pickles you wanted."

Brendon offered him the jar, and Pete took it, twisting off the lid and inhaling deeply. His mouth started to water, so he took one out and bit into it. It was exactly what he hadn't even known he'd wanted.

"Oh God, you're the best," he said between bites.

When he finished the pickle, he pulled Brendon in for a hug that didn't quite work since Brendon ran into his stomach instead of fitting nicely into his embrace. They both laughed, and Brendon slid to the side, which worked a lot better. And when Brendon turned his head to kiss Pete, Pete went with it.

It seemed like it had been forever since anyone had been quite so close to him, although he knew it hadn't been that long since he'd been with Gerard. Then again, he wasn't actually friends with Gerard, whereas he was with Brendon. It felt good, and he wasn't about to turn down a chance for a little closeness, in love with Patrick or not.

With that decided, he kissed Brendon back, pouring into it all the confusion and desperation he'd been feeling since starting this crazy journey; it wasn't that difficult to channel it all into affection for Brendon.

Brendon didn't really seem to notice any of this, which was just fine. He slipped a hand up Pete's shirt, and Pete found himself getting pretty turned on, more so than he would have expected. Suddenly, standing didn't seem like such a good idea anymore, so he dragged Brendon over to the couch, abandoning the jar of pickles on the coffee table.

Of course, having to pretty much let go of Brendon just so he could sit down properly did nothing for the mood, but Brendon didn't seem all that perturbed. He flopped down next to Pete and resumed his previous actions. Before long, Pete actually found himself whimpering, it was so good; and all Brendon had even _done_ was rub his nipples a little bit.

Brendon finally pulled away long enough to get Pete out of his shirt, which left Pete feeling decidedly…strange. Not that he was exactly freaked out by seeing his body looking so different, but he really kind of missed just looking like himself. Brendon, on the other hand, looked distinctly as if he'd like to tackle Pete.

That seemed to be pretty much on the mark, because Brendon got Pete's pants down around his knees within seconds, enclosing Pete's dick in his fist. And oh God, was that _good_. Brendon threw his arm around Pete's shoulders, attached his mouth to Pete's neck, and started moving his hand. Pete was in sensory overload, and he came in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Brendon let go of his dick pretty quickly and began fumbling with his own pants, not even caring that he was totally making a mess of them in the process. He succeeded in getting his hand inside just as Pete recovered enough to think about returning the favor. He pushed Brendon's hand aside and replaced it with his own, managing to also turn enough to capture Brendon's lips in a lazy kiss.

He brought Brendon off quickly, and the way Brendon looked at him afterward, with a sated and sleepy smile, was far hotter than it had any right to be. Pete felt the familiar flutter of arousal, although that obviously wasn't going to lead anywhere, not so soon after he came.

Within minutes, Brendon had dropped off, slumped against Pete's shoulder. Pete couldn't quite bring himself to slip away (even though he probably should), so he settled in for a nap of his own.

When Pete awoke an hour or so later, Brendon was drooling on his shoulder. He carefully extricated himself so he could redress and clean up. And as much as he might have liked to stick around a little longer, he knew he should be leaving. Best not to get too comfortable when he wasn't really _home_.

Packing the jar of pickles Brendon had brought into his backpack, Pete set the time machine to the year 1000 and pressed Start.

*****

Pete unexpectedly found himself standing in front of a group of people who were chanting.

"Another sign!" someone shouted, and the chanting stopped. "It is as we have been expecting. The Apocalypse is nigh!"

Pete rolled his eyes. "I'm no sign of anything."

"But surely, you must be." The man who had just spoken looked at him with certainty. "You appeared before our eyes."

Pete sighed, knowing that there really wasn't going to be a good way out of this. "Okay, yes, I'm a sign. But a sign that the Apocalypse isn't coming."

"Has God told you this?"

"Why not? And look, maybe I'm even pregnant with Jesus reincarnated."

A wave of muttering went through the crowd, and Pete surreptitiously set the time machine to take him back to the present, hitting Start before anyone could question him again.

*****

What a disaster that had been.

Pete looked around, realizing that he was standing on a crowded street, and oh, not good. Someone had to have seen him appear out of nowhere. Amazingly, though, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. Were they all blind or something?

Pete was abruptly bumped into by a guy hurrying past, and he managed a dirty look. The guy glanced behind him, looking a little bit surprised but then going on his way again quickly.

Pete sighed and started walking down the street to try to get his bearings. He decided that something really must be wrong, because he kept having to dodge people who were clearly not watching where they were going. Someone bumped into him again, and Pete was just about to tell them off when he caught a glimpse of a reflective storefront window and didn't see himself.

He forgot about his anger and walked up to the window, even placing his hand on it, but there was nothing. In that moment, Pete wanted nothing more than to be able to see himself, and suddenly, he could. He let out a huge sigh of relief; his life was freaky enough when people _could_ see him.

He continued on his way, eventually figuring out that he wasn't far from his parents' house, so he headed there. No one was home when he got there, but he found that his key still worked, so at least he knew that it _was_ still the right house.

Without further ado, Pete went up to his room and lay on his bed, finally feeling at home for the first time in way too long. He lay there for awhile, trying to relax, but when it didn't work, he figured that he might as well eat something since he had the time and means to have a proper meal.

As he made himself a sandwich, Pete realized that he kind of couldn't actually see his own hands. And it was more than a little freaky to see bread and condiments floating through the air. He concentrated again on the desire to see himself, and there his hands were. As soon as he stopped concentrating, though, he started to fade again.

Pete munched on his sandwich thoughtfully, contemplating the fact that he was, apparently, invisible. Obviously not the sort of thing he'd be able to just live with, not when it seemed to be his normal state. Shame, though. It'd be kind of like having a superpower.

He got momentarily lost in daydreams of being a superhero: defeating the villain and saving the girl…or something like that. And actually, he could probably use his 'power' for less than pure activities, and why wasn't he doing that already?

Pete grabbed his backpack and began heading toward Patrick's place, finishing his sandwich on the way. It was a little strange to be worrying that people would see a bag floating through mid-air, but it started to fade not too long after he picked it up, so it ended up being a non-issue.

As Pete approached Patrick's door, he realized that he really had no way of getting in without Patrick noticing. Luckily, Patrick opened the door a few minutes later and stepped out, giving Pete the chance to slip in. He set his bag down in a little-used corner and waited for Patrick to come back. Pete was almost certain he'd gone to get the mail, judging by the fact that he was wearing his pajamas.

Pete was right, of course, and Patrick came back with a small stack of mail that he abandoned on the kitchen table. Pete followed him around for the rest of the morning, hoping for, well, anything he might not usually get to see. It would figure that Patrick would do normal, everyday stuff like checking email and working on music.

After several hours, Pete was beyond bored from basically having to sit quietly and do nothing. Why had he ever thought that being invisible might be cool? Some superpower. He finally just grabbed his bag and made his escape to the year 523.

*****

Pete looked around and saw that there wasn't much of anything in his vicinity. It was really hot, but there was an outcropping of rock nearby, so he went over and settled himself in the shade, pulling out a bottle of water. Frankly, he was tired of all this shit. Having to figure out ways to change the past was wearing on his nerves, and he was in a state of perpetual confusion every time he went back to the present and the rules had changed. And that wasn't even considering some of the things that had happened to his friends.

Suddenly, he realized that tears were running down his cheeks, and he swiped them away angrily; this was _not_ how he dealt with his emotions. So Pete did what he did best – he wrote down everything he could fit on a scrap of paper he ripped out of his notebook. He felt calmer, letting those words, those _feelings_ out.

He looked at the piece of paper once it was full and decided he didn't want it. He stood and walked away from the rocks, releasing the paper into the breeze that was blowing gently over the terrain. As it fluttered away, he set the time machine for the present.

*****

Pete's eyes widened as he abruptly found himself hoisted off the ground and shoved roughly against a wall. "Where is my money, Wentz?"

"Uh…"

Pete wished fleetingly to be anywhere but there, and then, well, he wasn't there anymore. He was standing next to Patrick in a nice-looking apartment, facing Andy and Joe, who were sitting on a sofa and looking pretty pissed.

"Dude, you've gotta stop doing this shit!" Joe blurted out almost immediately.

And this was totally not what Pete was hoping for when they were all together again for the first time in…actually, he had no idea how long.

"I didn't mean to," Pete offered tentatively, almost a question.

"Bullshit, Pete! All the times I've had to pull your ass out of the fire-" Patrick was cut off by a wave of Andy's hand.

"What he means, Pete, is that you never _mean_ to, but you keep fucking up because you know Patrick will get you out of it."

Patrick nodded his agreement, his face as red as Pete had ever seen it. He took a few breaths and seemed to calm down a little while they all let the awkward silence stretch on.

"Look, Pete, I know it's like, my job to get you out of shit, but you can't keep this up. It's not just you being affected by this anymore."

Patrick nodded to Joe, who produced a tabloid with Pete's picture on the front. Pete barely restrained a laugh, thinking that it couldn't be that serious. It was a good thing he did, though, because this was nothing like, 'Wentz Shows Wang on Internet!' It was actually more like, 'Wentz Gambles Compulsively, Fall Out Boy Embezzles Millions.'

"But I wouldn't do that!" Pete protested.

"Except that you did, Pete." Andy sighed in disappointment. Pete opened his mouth but found that he had no idea what to say. It didn't matter because Andy kept going. "Go ahead and wish it all away; Patrick will take care of it. But then we really need to have a talk about the band."

"Patrick will make it go away if I wish for it?" Pete asked, already connecting some of the dots with this and his having wished himself out of trouble before.

"Of course I will, Pete. I always do, because that's what fairy godfathers do. So just get this over with."

Pete almost couldn't believe that it wasn't a joke. "I wish that I'd never had to embezzle any money."

Patrick snapped his fingers and the tabloid no longer said anything about Pete or Fall Out Boy. Pete blinked repeatedly, thinking how useful having a fairy godfather was. It took him a minute to realize that Patrick was talking.

"-and we can't keep putting up with this, so maybe we should go on hiatus."

"Are you…oh God, are we breaking up over this?" Everyone shifted their eyes from him, and Pete knew he was right. "But I can change!"

"Dude, you've been saying that for years," Joe threw out, and if Joe was going along with it, they were serious.

"Look, we just want you to take some time to get your shit together, and then we'll see about getting back to work." Andy _would_ try to be diplomatic about this.

Pete must have looked pretty freaked out, because Patrick drew him into a hug, which he almost never did when he was angry at Pete. "I'll still be there for you if you need me. You can do this, Pete."

"Yeah, sure. I've gotta…get out of here. I'll talk to you guys later."

He pulled away from Patrick and got the hell out of there before he did something stupid. Logically, he knew that he could change things and this would never have happened, but that didn't mean he could stop feeling like it had. At that moment, Pete wanted so badly to smash the fucking time machine for putting him through all this, but that would leave him nowhere good. He took a minute to try to calm down and then set the time machine to take him to the year 0.

*****

Pete was really in no mood for people, so naturally he found himself in a crowd of them. Most of them didn't' seem to notice him, but one teenager gave him a strange look and walked over. The teen said something, but of course it wasn't in English, so Pete had no idea what it was.

"I don't understand," Pete said, knowing he wouldn't be understood either.

He got another strange look, and then the teen started poking at his backpack. Pete took it off and opened it, ignoring the teen's obvious surprise. He rifled through, finding a bottle of Coke. Closing the bag and shrugging it back on his shoulders, Pete opened the bottle and took a swig. He smiled slightly at the teen and handed the bottle over.

The teen eyed it suspiciously before taking a drink and swishing it around in his mouth. It seemed to go over well, and when the teen tried to hand it back, Pete pushed it toward him. The teen put a hand to his chest, which Pete took as a gesture of thanks, and ran off. Pete got the time machine ready to take him to the present again.

*****

Pete looked around, unprepared for the utter silence and lack of people. And to be honest, things really weren't looking very good. There seemed to be a lot of abandoned cars, as well as other stuff that generally didn't end up left on the street. He picked up a cell phone and flipped it open; it seemed to be working fine, so Pete had no idea why it had been left.

He tossed it back to the ground and headed up the street, getting his bearings after a couple of minutes. He was kind of surprised to be near Andy's place because a lot of the buildings looked pretty derelict; actually, he'd expected to find himself nowhere near any of his usual haunts.

Pete sped up, suddenly very anxious to get off the street and into someplace familiar. As he walked, the streets started to have more cars, except these all looked to have been in accidents; some were still smoldering. And then he saw one that looked like it had someone in it. Despite the sudden wave of anxiety that swept through him, Pete approached the car.

When he got close enough to look in the window, he saw that the person really wasn't a person anymore, so much as it was a skeleton. He stumbled backward and almost fell down trying to run away. As he got closer to Andy's, Pete saw more and more bodies. He didn't know whether it was worse when they were just skeletons or when he started to see some that still had skin attached.

From what he could tell, it almost looked like their skin had been burnt through with acid. Some kind of acid rain or something, maybe? As Pete passed a bar, he heard noise coming from inside. He went in, hoping to find someone alive, but instead found a TV tuned to CNN.

_"…acid rain clouds appear to be forming all over the globe with increasing speed. Authorities encourage everyone to stay in their homes and get to a basement or cellar if possible. This rain does not appear to be stopped by most types of architecture, so your best option seems to be putting as much distance between yourself and it as possible._

Death tolls are estimated in the billions, but with very few reports coming in, it's difficult to determine…"

Pete left then, not wanting or needing to hear any more. He grew nauseous just thinking about it, and it was an effort to make it the last few blocks to Andy's place. He felt a sense of dread as he approached the door, absolutely sure he didn't want to see whatever was inside, but still unable to help himself.

Pete took a few tentative steps inside and puked his guts out at the sight before him. Obviously they hadn't gotten the memo about the basement, because Patrick and Andy's bodies were sprawled casually on the sofa, as if they never knew what hit them. He hoped that was the case.

Pete was sure now that the bodies with skin were worse than those without, because there was just enough left on their bodies for him not to be able to mistake them for anyone else. He would have welcomed skeletons and inference. Pete moved back out the door on shaky legs, randomly hitting buttons on the time machine, not even taking notice of the year in his rush to get away.

*****

Pete was thankful, oh so thankful, that he found himself totally alone on a warm beach. He collapsed to his knees, unable to hold back a sob. Fuck not crying; he'd just seen two of his best friends' bodies, and knowing he'd lost Joe and Patrick to aliens had nothing on actually seeing Patrick and Andy dead. Pete slumped to the ground, struggling weakly to be free of his backpack. Finally, he was able to just lie there until his tears dried up and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

When Pete awoke, he had no idea how much time had passed, nor did he care. His stomach grumbled, and though he didn't feel like eating, he fished some crackers and a bottle of water out of his bag. He didn't notice until he went to put them away, but the picture of the four of them had fallen out. Tears welled up again, but Pete pushed them back; he'd cried too much already. It was time to write.

He wrote down anything and everything he could think of about Patrick and Andy, and when he was finished, he gathered up a few nearby shells and arranged them around the picture and sheets of paper. He looked down at his work, touched his fingers to his lips, and then to the picture. Before he could think about crying again, Pete scooped up his bag and the time machine, hitting the Start button.

*****

Pete was momentarily confused when he found himself standing on the fringes of a crowd that looked familiar. He glanced around, and sure enough, there he was in the middle of the crowd. He ducked back even further, looking at the time machine and wondering what had gone wrong.

And of course, he had forgotten to set it back to Present. Obviously it had taken him to the time he had been previously. So what should he do? Go further back again or go to the present?

Pete tried to decide as he absently watched his other self, but he ducked quickly as he saw his other self glance in his direction. Brief thoughts of _Back to the Future_ and bad alternate timelines (not that it could get much worse than what he'd just been through) flitted through his mind. Even if it couldn't get much worse, Pete didn't think he ought to chance it, so he set the time machine to take him to the present, figuring that his little ode to his bandmates had probably changed things. And if it hadn't…well, he'd know pretty quickly and could just go back again.

*****

Pete sighed in relief as he turned around and saw that he was standing just a little way down the road from a castle. That was different enough to convince him that things were definitely not the same as they had been. He took a shuddery breath and heaved it out slowly.

"Your Highness, are you alright?"

Pete jumped and spun around, unable to hold back a smile when he saw Patrick standing there and giving him a concerned look. He launched himself into Patrick's arms and was gratified to feel Patrick clutch Pete to him.

"Your Highness, now is neither the time, nor the place," Patrick said after a moment, trying to gently disentangle himself from Pete.

"It's the perfect time, Patrick, the perfect place."

Pete knew he should let go – something was obviously off – but he couldn't bear to quite yet. Eventually, Patrick just pushed him off, looking around furtively and sighing in relief when it turned out that there was no one around.

"We really should continue on if you want to have a decent walk before night falls."

Pete looked questioningly at Patrick, but he remained impassive until Pete finally nodded and they set off again. They hadn't gone much further before Patrick turned off the road and onto a small path that led between some trees. They walked on, and Pete realized that they were actually in a forest or something, rather than just a few trees.

He turned to look at Patrick, intending to ask where they were going or make a stupid joke, or anything really, but instead he just stared. He wasn't sure what to say, anyway, because what really wanted to come out were words about how much he loved Patrick, how much he missed Patrick and was scared to lose him again.

They stopped a few minutes later when they reached a clearing, and Pete was taken completely by surprise when Patrick latched on to him and pulled him in for a scorching kiss. He got with the program quickly enough, though, bringing his arms up to Patrick's shoulders and holding on for dear life.

They stayed like that for quite awhile, just making out amongst the trees; Pete knew he was being desperate and needy, clinging every time Patrick moved back even an inch to breathe, but he couldn't help it. He wanted Patrick as much as ever, and apparently the closeness was just what he needed to help get through his head that Patrick wasn't dead, was fine again, now that Pete had changed things.

Sure, Pete could still see the image of desiccated bodies if he thought about it too much, but right now he had this; it was a good distraction. Finally, Patrick pulled away for real, and Pete actually managed to let him go.

"Pete, we really do need to get back. You have dinner with Ashlee and your parents tonight, and you need to not be late this time. It's bad form to keep your fiancée waiting, especially this close to the wedding, with all of the last-minute details you'll need to discuss."

"Fiancée?" Pete asked incredulously, but Patrick was busy straightening both his and Pete's clothing and hair and didn't seem to notice his question.

Patrick went right on talking about the wedding, which was apparently in three days, while Pete had an internal debate. Okay, Ashlee? Was pretty awesome, a good friend before all this time travel stuff started. Patrick? Well, obviously they had something going despite the fact that Pete was marrying Ashlee.

The question was whether or not he could make this work. Could he still be with Patrick even after marrying Ashlee? Would that be fair to any of them? Pete was brought out of his thoughts when he realized that they were approaching the castle.

As they walked inside, Pete tried not to stare too hard; it was like something out of the Middle Ages. There was a courtyard with a bunch of people milling about with horses and carts, as well as a few honest-to-god armored guards standing near the gates. Everyone bowed to Pete as he passed, and yeah, that must have been what the whole 'Your Highness' thing was about.

He and Patrick made their way quickly to the inner part of the castle, where they slipped in quietly, and Pete surreptitiously got Patrick to lead the way to his rooms.

"Now, Your Highness, we really must get you changed."

Pete looked at the ridiculously fancy clothing laid out on his bed and had to suppress a shudder. Come to think of it, though, both he and Patrick were already wearing strange clothing (for God's sake, he was wearing _breeches_), so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Pete was mildly surprised when Patrick started undressing him, especially since he was being so _clinical_ about it.

"Patrick?" Pete ventured. "About this thing between us…"

Patrick's hands faltered as he buttoned up Pete's shirt.

"I know it has to end, Pete. I always have," he all but whispered, leaning in close to Pete.

"What if I don't want it to?" Pete asked, and Patrick let go of him entirely.

"You can't do that. You need to get married, and you can't risk being put to death for me. They'd catch us one day, and I just can't let that happen."

"But-"

"No. I didn't know how to tell you, but I'm leaving right after the wedding." Patrick looked momentarily sad, but his face went blank a second later.

Pete heaved a sigh; it looked like he wouldn't be staying here either, even if he really didn't like the idea of risking ending up in a world where Patrick was dead. Still, though, he could hang around here for the next couple of days and have some time with Patrick.

And that's exactly what he did. The next few days were spent mainly in his rooms with Patrick. It turned out that a prince didn't actually have that much he really _had_ to do.

Finally, the day of the wedding rolled around, and since Pete had no desire to go through the ceremony when he wasn't going to be sticking around, he got up early and dressed himself, grabbing his backpack and the time machine, setting it for 10,000 BC.


	5. The Day Pete Wentz Fucked up the World

*****

Pete saw nothing but tall grass and a few trees in the distance, which he supposed was a good thing since he was actually feeling somewhat better after having seen Patrick. He was kind of afraid that having another person around might ruin it, especially if he had to try to explain himself. Then again, any people around in this time probably wouldn't understand him at all, so who knew if it would even matter.

He set his backpack down and sat next to it, starting to pull things out in hopes that something would help him decide what to change. He'd only taken a few things out when he heard a rustling in the grass. Two large eyes appeared to his left, and Pete carefully reached for the time machine.

The owner of the eyes appeared to be a large cat that inched toward Pete as he quickly set the time machine. He grabbed his backpack and hit the Start button as the cat sprung out of the grass.

*****

Pete found himself standing in an apartment, and when he called out a tentative 'hello?', he got no answer. He poked around a little bit, and a lot of the stuff was familiar. He decided that he must live alone since there wasn't really enough unfamiliar stuff for another person. Nothing seemed to be immediately problematic, so Pete tried to decide what he should do first.

He got out his cell phone and began thumbing through his contacts when he realized that he had an itch. The only thing was that it wasn't actually on his body. Well, obviously it _was_, but he was feeling it near his back, though not actually _on_ his back.

He reached a hand over his shoulder and felt…holy shit, that was a wing. How he had missed it, Pete had no idea. Now that he knew they were there, though, it was impossible not to feel the extra weight. He gave his back muscles an experimental twitch, and the wings fluttered a little and settled.

He went into the bedroom and opened the closet, pleased to find what he was looking for – a full-length mirror on the back of the door. He turned his back to it and looked over his shoulder to see the wings folded in and down. Pete turned back around and tried to open the wings; he really shouldn't have been as surprised as he was that they responded immediately, just like any other limb.

Pete studied them closely, deciding that they looked kind of like bat wings. When he touched them, they were leathery soft and quite a bit more sensitive than most of the rest of him was. He flapped them back and forth, testing them out. They seemed to work well enough, and Pete saw a sudden image of himself flying over the rooftops of the city. He grinned mightily at the mirror.

As much as he kind of wanted to just jump out his window or something, Pete knew that would be a really bad idea if the wings didn't prove strong enough to hold his weight. Of course, why he would have wings that wouldn't hold his weight, he couldn't guess, but he figured it was still better to make sure.

Pete went back out to the living room and flapped his wings again, this time with intent. He rose from the floor relatively easily but was only able to get a foot or so off the ground before his wings brushed the ceiling. Clearly he needed more space. For that, he headed up to the roof of the building, bouncing excitedly.

Pete began flapping his wings again, and this time he kept on rising. Before long, he was several feet off the roof, and he decided to try moving in a direction other than straight up. He slowly began to move forward, and he couldn't stop grinning. He flew out past the edge of the building, and his stomach swooped in nervous excitement.

As Pete flew, he realized that the city was more like a town. He started seeing fewer buildings and more open and wooded areas. That was probably for the best, really, because who knew what anyone would think if they saw him. He really didn't need to see himself on the front cover of some tabloid as a 'Real Angel Sighting!' or something equally ridiculous. Not that he looked all that much like an angel.

Pete looked around as he flew, taking in as much as he could. The view was similar to what you might get from an ascending plane, but the experience wasn't even close to the same. Eventually, he turned back around, although sort of reluctantly, because he didn't want to get too far away from home.

It wasn't until he got back to the edge of town that he heard the first shots. It took a moment for him to realize that someone was actually shooting at him. Pete was suddenly seized with fear, and he stopped concentrating on flying, causing him to begin to fall. Very quickly, he refocused his attention and managed a smoother descent until he was only ten or so feet up.

Then he felt pain blooming in his left wing, and he yelled as he fell the remaining distance, landing painfully on his side. He pushed himself carefully to his feet, wincing when it hurt to use his right arm. Fortunately, his legs seemed to be okay, so Pete got out of there as fast as he could.

The whole thing would have been, well, not as bad, at least, if he'd had the time machine with him; it was too bad that his backpack didn't really work well with the wings. As it was, he hurried back to his apartment, afraid that whoever had shot him would come after him. He managed to make it back alright, other than the fact that his wing was bleeding the whole way there.

Pete looked at his wing the first chance he got, but he wasn't really sure what to do about the hole he found. Deciding that just changing the past as quickly as possible was probably his best course of action, Pete gathered up his backpack and the time machine, setting it for 20,000 BC.

*****

Pete wasn't sure whether or not it was good that he found himself in the midst of a group of people or not. On the one hand, he really didn't like the possibility of one of them approaching him while he was wounded and bleeding surprisingly heavily.

On the other hand, after staring in shock for a moment, their reaction was to make a bunch of noise and flee, which meant that he'd probably already had enough of an effect that he didn't really need to do anything else. So, Pete just set the time machine to take him back to the present and hit Start.

*****

Pete was really not pleased at having managed to show up strapped to a table in what looked like some creepy lab, although at least his wounds (and wings) were gone. Looking around, he saw that the shelves around the room were lined with specimen jars. There were some containing tentacles, a few with squids, and a couple with…human appendages.

Pete started struggling then, trying to free himself, because nothing good ever came of being in a room with body parts in specimen jars. He was right, of course. Someone unfamiliar came in minutes later and tried to get a mask over his face. Pete couldn't do much more than turn his head to get away from it, which didn't work for very long. A firm hand held his head still while the other got the mask on him, and then he was out like a light.

When Pete came to, he was groggy and vaguely nauseous. He tried once again to move, but to no avail. He sighed heavily; of course they would still have him strapped down. Finally, he opened his eyes and was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Andy?" he slurred out.

"Pete, you're awake, good. How are you feeling?"

Pete ignored that in favor of trying to get some answers. "What's going on, Andy? Where am I? What the hell just happened?" he asked, the words coming more easily as the grogginess began to clear away.

"You're in recovery at my lab, Pete. You came through the transplant surgery remarkably well. I wouldn't expect much mobility with your new arms initially; it will probably be at least a week before you can move them properly. It all went so well, though, that I expect you'll have full mobility within a month if you make sure to exercise them properly. But I should leave you to rest now."

Andy walked out before Pete could so much as utter a sound. Pete closed his eyes again, not prepared to look at his arms and see what Andy had been talking about. He lay there for awhile, trying to mentally prepare for the horrible thing that had undoubtedly happened to him. His imagination kept coming up with progressively worse things, so Pete finally looked just to keep himself from completely freaking out.

His arms were gone, and in their place were tentacles. Pete tried to move them, but unsurprisingly, couldn't. He stared at them for awhile, almost unable to believe what he was seeing. He couldn't feel any pain, and without being able to move them, he was left feeling disconnected from the whole thing.

He noticed vaguely that the tentacles weren't strapped down (unlike his torso and legs), but that didn't really help him right now. Pete wriggled around for several more minutes before giving escape up as a lost cause at the moment. He fell into an exhausted sleep and didn't wake again for hours.

Pete was pretty much stuck there for several days, while he slowly gained use of the tentacles. After a week or so, he had a pretty good grasp on how to work the tentacles, but he thought that maybe pretending like he didn't might help in getting him out of there more quickly (assuming they were planning on letting him leave at all).

After another couple of days, Pete couldn't take it anymore; the whole situation was just too damn frustrating. He didn't get to do anything for himself, not that he was sure he really would have been able to anyway. The tentacles were fairly dexterous, but he wasn't at all sure how well they'd work for grabbing things since they had no fingers. Still, he thought he could probably manage to work the time machine since it mostly involved pushing buttons.

He waited until he was left alone for the night before trying to make his escape. The straps holding him down weren't terribly difficult to undo. They were fastened securely enough, but they were pretty obviously meant to hold down someone who couldn't just unfasten them.

Pete ended up having more trouble getting his backpack open. He was grateful that it had apparently been brought to the room with him, but it was zipped securely, which the tentacles were having problems with. Eventually, he figured out that the suckers could be used to get a firmer grip, and he managed to get it open by getting the zipper between the suckers of both tentacles. Finally, he maneuvered the time machine out and managed to set it to take him to 130,000 BC.

*****

It figured that Pete would once again run into people. Well, at this point in time, he supposed they were probably Neanderthals rather than humans. And it probably would have been fine except for the part where they seemed not to be afraid of him and approached him like he was some peculiar form of animal.

Pete tried to keep his distance from them, backing away while fumbling with the time machine and finally getting it set to take him back to the present just as he managed to get cornered against a large rock.

*****

Pete knew immediately that something was very wrong. He could see that he was in a living room, but well, he didn't actually have eyes, so it wasn't like he could technically be _seeing_ anything. By the same token, he did have a body, but it didn't feel like an actual body. Experimentally, he tried to move and found that he could, although the best he could manage was to roll. He thumped to the ground and rolled along the floor, not exactly sure what he was looking for until he saw it.

There was a sliding glass door across the room, and he rolled over to it, wanting to get a look at his reflection. All he saw sitting there was a ball of yarn. Okay, that was just…impossible. Yes, he'd been in plenty of impossible situations before, but this took the cake. How could yarn even have a consciousness? Just to be sure he wasn't wrong, he tentatively tried and succeeded in waving the tail of the yarn at his reflection. Oh, this was so not good.

Pete looked around for his backpack and spied it not far away from the basket he assumed he'd been sitting in initially. He began rolling toward it, but he'd only gotten halfway there when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He stopped where he was, not really wanting to chance whoever it was seeing a ball of yarn rolling around by itself.

The person came over and picked him up, setting him on the sofa before heading toward what Pete assumed was the bathroom. When they came back and sat next to him, Pete realized that it was actually Jon Walker. Alright, this would be fine; he would just wait for Jon to leave again, and then he'd make his way over to the time machine and get the hell out of here.

The only problem with that was that Jon dug around in the basket a little bit and finally produced a short metal rod. Pete had some idea what it might mean, and unfortunately, he turned out to be right. Jon found the loose end of…Pete's body and started looping it on what Pete had realized was a crochet hook.

It was a strange feeling, to have his body being all twisted up together. Pete kind of wanted to see if he could untangle himself, but moving while Jon was still holding him probably wasn't the best idea. Jon was working fairly quickly, and while Pete wasn't exactly afraid that he'd be completely used up (he wasn't _that_ small), he didn't like how quickly his body mass was disappearing into whatever Jon was making.

Maybe he could just…Pete tangled together a bit of himself near where Jon was busy crocheting. Jon swore a little when he got to the tangled bit, but he picked it apart and continued on. Pete did it again.

They went back and forth like that several more times before Jon got frustrated enough to toss Pete aside, which Pete was grateful for. If only he had then left the room instead of sitting back to watch TV, Pete would have been a lot happier. He figured he could wait it out, though. It wasn't like there was much to being a ball of yarn.

So Pete took the time to just try to relax and not think too much about everything he'd been through since he left home, everything that could still happen before he got things back to something approximating normal. Thankfully, it wasn't too long until Jon got up and went to the kitchen; Pete was kind of failing at not thinking.

Pete didn't want to miss his chance if this was it, so he rolled off the couch as best he could when he wasn't completely spherical anymore. He made it over to his backpack and once again had trouble with getting it open. The zipper took a lot of tugging, and by the time Pete got it open, he was kind of tired. It wasn't really physical tiredness, but he guessed the whole thing was mentally draining. He managed to get himself inside, and from there, he went about setting the time machine, which also took longer than it should because there was very little force to be gotten from a yarn body. Finally, he managed to get it set to take him to 3,000,000 BC.

*****

Pete didn't know how much he could actually change, being a mentally-exhausted ball of yarn. He managed to get himself out of the backpack to look around. He was thumping around a little unevenly, and that gave him an idea. He worked on loosening his body where it had been crocheted, and he succeeded enough to allow the crochet hook to fall to the ground. That done, he set the time machine to take him back to the present.

*****

Once again, the world looked completely wrong. Pete was way too low to the ground, and he was suddenly very restless. Everything looked new and interesting, so he started scurrying around the room, looking and sniffing at all of it curiously. There was a sock lying on the floor that was just awesome, and he latched onto it, carrying it into the nearest corner, behind a chair.

He stayed there for quite awhile, just nestling with the sock, but he perked up again when he heard his name being called. Pete peeked out from behind the chair and saw a familiar set of sneakers approaching. Within seconds, he was scooped up and cradled in one arm while the sock was picked up with the other.

"Pete." Pete looked up to see Patrick shake his head fondly. "I wish you'd stop hiding my sock in that corner. Time for you to go back in your cage."

So saying, Patrick opened the door to the cage and placed Pete inside. Pete was surprised by how tired he was, so he curled up for a nap. When he woke, Pete didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt a lot less twitchy than he had before, which was good because it meant that he had better control over himself. His body and instincts had clearly gotten the better of him, but Pete was feeling more himself now.

Of course, he still had no idea what type of animal he was (and he was sure he was an animal), so he turned his head and did his best to look at the rest of his body. From the look of things, Pete was guessing ferret. It had been an interesting experience so far, to say the least.

He still felt kind of tired, but he thought ferrets generally slept a lot, so that wasn't really a surprise. He gave a second's consideration to going back to sleep, but he knew that he should try to get out of the cage and over to his backpack. Pete flexed his paws, wondering if they would be flexible enough to work the latch.

He'd never know if he didn't try, so Pete ran up to the top of the cage, where the door was. He was momentarily distracted by how fun that was, so he ran to the bottom and back up before he remembered that he was supposed to be trying to get free. He edged his way across the platform he was standing on and reached out a paw. Damn, not close enough.

Pete got a good grip on the bars and moved off the platform, toward the latch. It was treacherous going, even if it was only a few inches of distance. He once again reached out a paw and got hold of the latch this time. It wasn't easy to get undone, but Pete finally managed. He slipped out of the cage, but it was no easy task to get all the way down the cage and to the ground.

Once he was there, though, it was fairly easy to burrow into his backpack and find the time machine. He set it to take him to 70,000,000 BC.

*****

Pete stuck his head out of the backpack and looked around. At first, it didn't look like there was much to see. A few trees, some grass, and quite a few rocks. Then one of the trees moved, and Pete shrunk back into his backpack. After a second, he realized that trees couldn't _actually_ move, and he stuck his head back out. He looked up, and oh, that was a dinosaur.

Pete just stared until he realized that it was heading toward him and he was kind of in danger of being squashed soon. He quickly tossed out the first thing he found that he could lift and set the time machine just as a large shadow blocked out the sunlight.

*****

Pete felt a lot more like himself, but when he went to move, he stumbled awkwardly on the extra set of legs he apparently had. He looked down and then twisted to look behind him. Christ, that was weird. There was nothing right about his torso being attached to the body of a horse.

He moved again, but carefully, not wanting to trip over his legs again. It went more smoothly this time, and Pete made it up to a trot without any problems. He'd never ridden a horse before, but he thought he might just have to rectify that when he got the chance. There was something freeing about just running like that, especially when he picked the pace up to a gallop.

In fact, it sort of reminded him of flying, at least before he'd gotten shot down. Pete slowed suddenly and looked around, paranoid that something like that would happen again. There was no one around, though; in fact, there wasn't a whole lot of anything around.

There was a hill, though, and Pete ascended it. When he got to the top, it turned out to be more of a cliff than a hill, and one with an amazing view, at that. There was a large beach spread in front of the cliff, and beyond that was what Pete assumed to be the ocean.

He just stood there for awhile, taking it all in and enjoying the uncomplicated moment. He'd had far too few of those recently, and he hadn't realized how much he missed them. Sure, the underlying worries were still present, but he could forget about them for a little while since he had the chance.

He looked down at the beach and saw a figure sprawled out. He couldn't tell if he even knew who it was, but he could make out a fish tail. Wonderful, merpeople on the beach. And it was kind of bad that he was immediately jumping to crazy conclusions like that, wasn't it? Clearly he had been doing this too long. When Pete thought more about it, though, a merperson probably shouldn't be lying out on the beach. They needed to be in the water to breathe, right?

He went back down the hill side of the cliff and circled around until he found the beach. He hurried over to the merperson and saw that he bore a strong resemblance to Joe. Pete tried to bend down and check if he was breathing, but it turned out that he couldn't reach that far. So, he tucked his legs under him as best he could and lay down so he was close enough to reach.

It turned out that Joe actually was breathing, but it was in short, shallow breaths. He also seemed to be unconscious, and Pete couldn't wake him. Instead, he scooped Joe up and stood, hurrying to the edge of the ocean and only pausing for a second before wading in. He lowered Joe down, still not letting go. A moment later, Joe woke up and struggled until Pete let him go. He didn't swim away completely, though, instead lifting his head out of the water.

"Thanks for that," Joe said, waving a hand to indicate Pete bringing him back to the ocean. "I ended up on the beach and couldn't breathe well enough to get back."

"How could you even breathe at all?" Pete couldn't help asking.

"Vestigial lungs. They function well enough to keep me from dying when I'm out of water, but I can't be very physically active."

"Ah, well it was no problem helping you out."

Joe smiled and swam closer to Pete again, lifting up and pulling Pete into a hug. Pete stumbled a little since he had to support Joe's weight. All the same, it was a nice hug.

Pete waded back out of the water after Joe swam off, taking off his backpack and fishing out the time machine. As nice as all this was, Pete was ready to just get on with things, so he set the time machine to take him back to 600,000,000 BC.

*****

Pete found himself on the edge of a lake. For lack of anything else to do, he lay down for a moment while he looked through his backpack. At this point in time, it seemed like leaving something behind was the easiest way to change things.

He rifled through what was left until he found the jar of pickles from Brendon. As good as they had been, they'd probably been sitting in his backpack too long to be good anymore. He opened the lid and took a whiff; yep, they'd definitely gone bad. He pitched the whole thing into the lake and got the time machine ready to take him back to the present.

*****

Pete thought for a moment that he was hallucinating everything he saw. The sky was…well, it was green. All the buildings around him were yellow, and the streets were red. And that was just what was in his immediate line of sight. When Pete pinched himself and it didn't look like this was going to turn out to be a dream, he began walking.

Everything seemed to be a bizarre color, and when Pete went to get his cell phone out of his pocket, he saw that his hand was purple. Purple, for God's sake! And okay, this was weird, but so far, the strange color scheme seemed to be the only thing that was way off. Pete put it out of his head for the moment, calling Patrick (who was actually in his contact list, thank God) and asking if he could stop over.

"Sure, but I'm at my parents' house right now, so head there rather than my apartment."

"Alright," Pete agreed readily enough, just glad for the chance to get to see Patrick again (and while he's not a ferret, even).

He got to Patrick's place and knocked on the door, his heart pounding a little harder as it swung open and he saw Patrick standing in the doorway. Patrick, too, was purple – although a different shade than Pete – so seeing him was both strange and familiar.

Patrick grabbed Pete's arm and yanked him in, shutting the door and pressing Pete up against it. They were kissing then, and Pete had missed this so, so much. It wasn't long before they were stumbling to Patrick's room and sprawling on his bed. He'd just managed to get a hand down Patrick's pants when a shrill voice yelled, "Patrick!"

Patrick leapt away immediately, falling off the bed and leaving Pete alone under his mom's scrutiny. Pete swallowed hard and sat up, doing his best not to draw attention to the fact that he was hard. He was aided by Patrick standing up, because Patty's eyes immediately swung over to stare at him.

"What do you think you're _doing_? You know we don't approve of this sort of thing, and-"

Pete didn't mean to tune out her words, but he was fascinated that her anger was making her cheeks turn a color he didn't even know the name of; the purple skin thing was turning out to be kind of interesting.

"So, I think you know what the solution is. You'll just have to get married."

That caught Pete's attention in a hurry. "What?" he asked in bewilderment.

He shrank back a little when Patty turned her piercing gaze on him. "I _assume_ you'll be doing the right thing by my son."

Pete put on his best serious face and sat up a little straighter. "Of course I will, Mrs. Stump." He would have said that even if it weren't true.

She continued to stare at him before finally turning in the doorway. "I'll give you boys some privacy to talk things over, but leave the door open."

They both nodded silently and waited until she left the room. Patrick sat down next to Pete and heaved a sigh. "Sorry for that. She doesn't really mean it." Pete gave him a hard look. "Okay, she does, we can try to find a way to get out of it."

Pete's heart sank. "You want to get out of it?"

Patrick was silent for a long moment. "No, not really," he said quietly.

Okay, now Pete was confused. "So why are we trying to get out of it, then?"

Patrick looked at him in surprise. "You _don't_ want to get out of it?"

Pete smiled slightly. "No, not really."

"So we're really gonna do this?"

Pete could hear the hopeful tone in Patrick's voice, and he couldn't help smiling. "Just one thing, first. This isn't gonna affect, like…" Pete waved a hand vaguely.

"The band?" Patrick supplied. "I don't see why it would. We've been together long enough that I think we'd know by now if it was going to fuck up band dynamics. Besides, Andy and Joe have always supported us, so what's gonna be affected?"

Suddenly, Pete felt like he was positively floating. Could it be that he'd found everything he wanted? He could hardly believe it. After all the time he'd spent going back and forth in time, Pete had kind of buried the hope that he could have Patrick and Fall Out Boy and something approaching normality. It had never been gone, but with everything he had to deal with, he just couldn't keep it at the forefront of his mind all the time.

"Pete?" Patrick was waving a hand in front of his face, and Pete snapped out of his thoughts. He grinned brightly before pulling Patrick in for a long kiss. Soon enough, though, Patty was clearing her throat.

"I take it everything is going well?" They both smiled at her. "Good. Now, we should start planning if we're going to be having a wedding soon."

She gestured for them to follow her into the living room. Patrick went, but Pete stayed behind.

"There in a minute," he said when Patrick poked his head back in.

He went to his backpack and took the time machine out, looking at it for a long time. Was he sure about this? Could he handle everything being strange colors? Was this what he _really_ wanted?

He tossed the time machine to the ground and stomped on it without another thought. Some things didn't really need to be questioned.


End file.
